


Switch

by AETXL



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies), Frozen - Anderson-Lopez & Lopez/Lee
Genre: F/F, Frohana (Disney), Give Elsa A Girlfriend (Disney), LETS GO LESBIANS, Lesbian Character, Minor Anna/Kristoff (Disney), Post-Frozen 2 (2019), Useless Lesbians, crackfic, elsamaren, light & love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28118229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AETXL/pseuds/AETXL
Summary: A fluffy crackfic taking place immediately after events of Frozen II, reversing some Elsamaren tropes/headcanons we've all developed during the last year (and thensome):Elsa - and almost everyone else - knows she's smitten for a particular woman up north, and she is determined to do something about it. Honeymaren tends to get too in her own head, oblivious to Elsa's interests. Anna provides a sober outlook, even as a romantic. Ryder is about to lose his mind.for the Light & Love collection thing![COMPLETE]
Relationships: Elsa & Honeymaren (Disney), Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney), elsamaren - Relationship
Comments: 37
Kudos: 101





	1. Traditions

**Switch**

**Prologue**

“Athohallen,” Elsa says, “is beautiful.” Looking from Yelena to Honeymaren—the woman who led her people to challenge Elsa, who led Elsa to the key to her identity and powers—Elsa glances at her full lips. She melts, thinking, _And so are you… Honeymaren._

The fire spirit jumps into Elsa’s hands suddenly, rolling round. She catches him, letting go of Yelena’s and—most unfortunately—Honeymaren’s hands. But little Bruni is so cute, she can’t be mad. _Just as well_ , Elsa thinks, lightly petting the cheerful salamander, _or you’d be caught staring at her with nothing to say beside ‘please be with me in any and every way possible.’_ Her brow quirks slightly, an outward sign of Elsa’s internal eye roll at herself.

Honeymaren’s guts squirm and her skin quivers, exhilarated by Elsa’s presence. Because she’s the Fifth Spirit. Because she is _not_ dead like her sister announced, and that has to be an interesting story. Because… just because! “You know,” Honeymaren starts, working up her nerve but initially averts her gaze. At last she looks up and says, “You belong up here.”

Elsa blinks slowly at her with a smile. She very nearly hums a low moan of satisfaction. Despite wanting to look Honeymaren over entirely, she keeps her gaze on her big brown eyes. Which are incredible and gorgeous and she already wants to look at them for the rest of her life, even if the rest of Honeymaren also deserves a lifetime of admiration. _Perhaps I should stay…_

\---

**Ch. 1: Traditions**

“Hey Gale, we’re going for a ride, wanna come?” Elsa asks. Gale sings enthusiastically, almost as excited as Nokk, who leaps upon the surface of the stream with relish. When he trots toward Elsa, she reaches her hand out, asks him, “You ready?”

Of course, he is. The moment Elsa has given the water spirit icy, solid form, the Nokk preens cheerfully, making her giggle. Elsa mounts her loyal steed with ease and grace. Together, they delight in the chilly air, made more so by the Nokk’s speedy canter. And he anticipates her every intent nonetheless; Elsa barely needs to think, and the Nokk responds.

Up until they reach a clearing in the forest. They see the earth giants right away, as well as a line of reindeer being led toward the giants. Likely the reindeer herders have the same idea as Elsa, to borrow the gift of the giants and take a short cut by climbing up the cliff face to better foraging grounds. Nothing unusual, at least since she’s joined the People of the Sun.

But Elsa’s heartbeat picks up when she sees who leads the herd: the Nattura siblings, riding their reindeer. The Nokk swerves toward them, and Elsa remembers that they have a different destination, steers him back the way they’d been going. She sees Honeymaren first, but her brother, Ryder, sees Elsa first, giving her a big, friendly grin and an even bigger wave.

Then she realizes that Honeymaren— _Honeymaren!_ —is waving at her, too! Compared to her brother, Honeymaren’s calm, reserved greeting from afar is barely noticeable. (Particularly from the back of a large, cantering horse.) Nonetheless, she _is_ waving at Elsa!

 _I got her attention!_ Elsa revels, recalling how challenging it has been to get Honeymaren alone. _Great day so far,_ Elsa thinks, turning forward again. Her lips pinch in a small, self-satisfied smile. She returns to her task at hand, the ride, and once again she and Nokk are of one mind. She’s able to slow the Nokk down so she can leave a Bruni-sized snow pile for the little fire spirit to dive into, all without giving the Nokk the slightest overt direction.

By the time they reach the sea, Athohallen shining in the distance, the high hits her. She sighs, warmth filling her chest. After just a few months, Elsa has made friends throughout her mother’s tribe. She never stresses about disturbing the peace of the community by simply _being_ , by letting her powers be an extension of herself rather than a utility that’s difficult to control. Her sister remains close to her through the efforts of the spirits (mainly Gale, but still), and has surprised everyone but Elsa with how well she’s transitioned to ruling Arendelle.

Although she hasn’t shared as much explicitly, Elsa feels thankful and relieved to be free of the building that was her prison for most of her life. As much as Anna had made that castle a home, as much as she had eagerly attended to Elsa’s touch-starvation—even as queen, Elsa was in too lofty a position to touch others as casually as anyone else, and it _killed_ her—she could not stay in that place. (If she had her way, both she and Anna would be here with the Northuldra, but she’s not completely devoid of a sense of responsibility.)

Here, she could be her _whole self_ … in more ways than one. No one shied from her keenness to learn healthy touch, and no one begrudged her honest reactions to women. Yelena looked aghast when Elsa apologized to her profusely for becoming distracted during their conversation. (Then she laughed at Elsa, which she has learned is typical of Yelena.) If anything, her mother’s people seemed eager to encourage her, even as they were confused about why Elsa would feel guilty for her sexuality. And how a sexuality could be ‘legal’ in Arendelle, but not elsewhere, while nonetheless being a ‘taboo’ topic.

Yes, no one faulted her for coming into her own in _that_ department either. Not even the elders who remembered the days before the mist, and how Arendellians had disdained their families.

They let her fawn over women like a teenager, and they teased her, too.

Admittedly, she fawned over one woman more than others.

Okay, one woman entirely.

The only woman who seemed oblivious to Elsa’s admiration.

A woman who shyly waved to her today.

 _Honeymaren._ Just thinking about her… Elsa brings her hand to her face, her habitual reaction, touching her temple and hiding her face. For the past several weeks, though, she’s been hiding a smile, and now that Honeymaren’s on her mind… She’s still grinning ear to ear as the Nokk arrives at Athohallen, eager to race around the glacier island.

\---

“Where do you suppose she’s off to?” Honeymaren asks her brother as their reindeer trot toward the earth giant. It’s still so strange to rely on the Earth spirit this way, to trust the giants as their reindeer climb up one’s arm. But the elders, including Yelena, insist that this is the way things used to be, and she trusts them.

“Somewhere amazing! To do something awesome!” Ryder suggests, smiling broadly at her as their mounts stand atop the cliff while the siblings closely watch the reindeer herd climb up the earth giant after them. Soberer, he asks her, “Which one do you think’s gonna go for the solstice?”

Honeymaren considers the question. The tail end of this year has been highly unusual by her standards. She wonders distantly if she could ever choose, if she’ll measure up to her elders, to Yelena, who expect so much of her. _He’s just asking about a deer,_ she reminds herself. Another part of her mind rebukes her. _Not any deer, one suitable for the sacrifice for the first winter solstice outside of the Mist._ Serious, Maren says, “Oggi if I had to guess. Maybe Turnip.” Both all white females look up at the sound of their names.

“Think Elsa will come?” Ryder asks. He rests his chin on top of his reindeer’s head, smirking sideways at his sister.

She gives him a confused look, puffs her chest out as though indignant… although she’s not sure for what reason. “Why wouldn’t she be here for it?”

Ryder shrugs, smirking at her and crossing his arms under his chin. “She’s got a birthday coming up, apparently there’s some kind of solstice celebration in Arendelle with her sister, I don’t even know if Athohallen has specials solstice needs!”

Pretending to be his reindeer, he adds, “That is so many things to do!”

“I know, right?” Ryder says to the animal, glancing sideways with a grin.

As he surely desires, Honeymaren does grin at his antics, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at her little brother nonetheless. “I don’t see why that would keep her from coming to _our_ winter solstice celebration.”

Gently covering his reindeer’s ears, Ryder asks her, “Do you recall how squeamish she got during the last slaughter?”

Blinking back her confusion, Honeymaren asks, “Wait, she was?”

“Duh?” Ryder says, pulling a grimace and shrugging at her. “Did you not notice?!”

“Um,” Honeymaren starts, “I… no.” She bites her lip. Her wide eyes glare down at her own hands. Did she really not notice that Elsa was uncomfortable? Had she failed that badly as her guide into their culture? Yelena was counting on her—hell, the Fifth Spirit herself was counting on her—and she had let them down without knowing it? Without saying another word, she clicks her tongue at her reindeer, who obediently turns around and starts walking.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal!” Ryder calls, quickly following after Honeymaren.

“Was she upset?” she asks. “How did you know?”

“It’s not a big deal!” Ryder insists, “I thought you noticed!”

“But I didn’t.”

“Mare.” He says it in that tone, the one she must obey because it means she’s being ridiculous.

Sighing, she shuts her eyes. “What?”

“My only point is that Elsa seemed squeamish around blood. Plenty of people around here are, too! It’s not like there’s a race to be the butcher, but we all know it’s necessary. That doesn’t mean you failed to ‘do your duty’ or whatever, get it?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Honeymaren sighs.

“Goooooood,” Ryder’s reindeer ‘says.’

“Ryder.”

“Why don’t you invite her?”

Honeymaren feels herself blush, but she doesn’t know why. She quickly presses her reindeer forward so she can watch where she’s going instead of looking at Ryder’s silly face. “What? No, she’s clearly got plenty to do, like you said.”

“Yeah!” Ryder encourages, taking up the herd’s lead alongside her. “Definitely invite her! That way, she can tell you if she’s not into the idea—”

“How is that a good thing?!” Honeymaren groans. Not that she wants to spend undeserved time with Elsa. She loves spending time with her. But it always feels tense in a way she can’t quite name, and she’s constantly tripping over herself whenever Elsa gets close. As an extremely competent leader among the People of the Sun, Honeymaren can’t wrap her head around her utter… uselessness around that woman.

“Because you can at least talk to her about it!” Ryder suggests. “Would it kill you to have a conversation?”

_And why would that be a good idea?_ Honeymaren wonders. Egging her steed onto a field of lichen, hiding underneath the snow, she gives her brother a dubious look, merely says, “I don’t know.”

“She doesn’t bite,” Ryder’s reindeer ‘says.’ “Exactly!” Ryder agrees. _“Would_ it kill you to have a conversation with her? At least if you ask, she’ll definitely spend the holiday here, even if she doesn’t attend the…” Once more he covers his reindeer’s ears. And glares at Honeymaren until she groans with frustration and covers _her_ reindeer’s ears. “…The sacrifice!” he whisper-shouts.

“I’ve had conversations with Elsa,” Honeymaren grumbles at him, although she feels anxious at the prospect. Not in a bad way and not in a good way either. “And besides,” she adds under her breath, “why would _my_ asking ‘definitely’ get Elsa to spend the solstice here?”

Shaking his head, Ryder simply scoffs at her, still grinning for some reason. As they watch the reindeer spread out to dig into the snow and feast on lichen, he merrily goads, “You should see the way she looks at you.”

Blushing furiously, Honeymaren urges her reindeer forward, takes position on the opposite side of the herd. She cannot fathom what Ryder could possibly mean by _that_.

\---

Elsa has a plan. Any and every time she interacted with Honeymaren, she had so many duties to attend to, so many responsibilities. Someone like her deserves a break from time to time, and Elsa would make sure to offer her the opportunity. As Nokk gallops across the sea, leaps upon the shore and expels his excited with bucks and kicks as they run, Elsa plots how to extend her invitation.

However, she had not planned for running into Honeymaren so soon. Or so literally.

The Nokk jumps over a fallen tree in the forest, and only as they are about to land on the other side does Elsa realize that they are running straight into the herd of reindeer. She yelps, holding tight as the Nokk dodges the startled reindeer, trying to slow down. At last, they reach a reindeer they can’t dodge, and rather than cause harm to the creature, the Nokk unceremoniously melts, dissolves from under Elsa. Leaving her flying at a reindeer’s rider quite unexpectedly.

“Hon—!”

She looks up at Elsa flying through the air toward her and gasps. But Honeymaren’s brow swiftly furrows with determination, with concentration.

“—ney—!”

Before Elsa can comprehend what’s happened, Honeymaren leaps from the back of her reindeer. She catches Elsa by the waist in midair. They fall to the snow-laden ground below safely, albeit not on their feet. “—maren!”

“Elsa!” Honeymaren gasps, her face red from her sudden exertion.

Delighted into obliviousness, Elsa keens, “Hi, Honeymaren, hi.” Not how she imagined the first time she might lay beside—or, more specifically, across—Honeymaren. The moment is breathtaking nonetheless.

“And Ryder is also here,” comes a voice above them. Elsa whips her head around, spots Ryder lazily resting his chin on his crossed arms atop the head of his own reindeer steed. He waves, smiling down at them.

_Fuck, he knows,_ Elsa realizes. She grins guiltily up at her crush’s brother, stands up. “Ryder,” she greets as demurely as she can. Bending down, Elsa turns her attention to the stock-still woman laying on her back in the snow. “Honeymaren! Are you all right?”

Honeymaren lays there in a daze. Clearing her throat, she blinks back… whatever the all-encompassing sensation overwhelming her body is. “I.. uhm…” Then she notices Elsa’s hand. It’s been outstretched to her this whole time. _For fuck’s sake, you fool,_ Honeymaren chastises herself. She places her hand in Elsa’s, sucking in her breath at the touch. As Elsa pulls her up to her feet, smiling freely at her, Honeymaren groans. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Ryder sighing happily down at them. She shoots a glare his way for gloating over her… whatever this hang-up is!

Huffing, she says, “I’m fine. Are you okay, Elsa?”

“Yes, absolutely! Thanks to you,” Elsa insists, smiling at her. “Nothing to worry about—what about you?”

Ryder whispers loudly, “You already asked her that.”

Both women glare at him. Speaking as his reindeer, already marching away, he sheepishly adds, “Geez, Ryder, learn to take a hint. Ever hear of a little privacy? Boundaries, Ryder, boundaries!”

Once he leaves, however, neither woman knows what to say. Honeymaren rubs the back of her neck, asks, “Did, um, the Nokk kick you off?”

“Oh no,” Elsa chuckles, “Just got a little excited.” She bites her lip, looking at Honeymaren’s.

“About what?”

For several seconds, she just stares at Honeymaren. _You, obviously?_ Part of her reckons that any and every one of the people in this tribe knows about Elsa, about how she feels. At least, she’s been teased plenty about it. Then Honeymaren says something like this, and Elsa doubts it all. “Just a good day, the weather is nice,” she says instead, smirking at Honeymaren.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Honeymaren says, but she knows her voice is much too serious. Too stiff. She can see it in the way Elsa winces slightly. _What is wrong with me?_ she asks herself. Why is she so tense?!

Plucking up her courage (and stomping her excitement down), Elsa says, “Actually, may I ask a favor?”

“Sure,” Honeymaren says, relaxing slightly. Enough to smile back at Elsa. “What can I do for you?”

_Literally anything_. “With Nokk gone, I would appreciate a ride back to the village with you… Both. All. With the whole herd, when you and Ryder are ready, of course!” Elsa brushes her hair back behind her ear, tries very hard to maintain eye contact with Honeymaren.

“That’s fine,” Honeymaren agrees. Then, “Oh, hey.” She notices her staff in the snow on the ground, and kneels down on one knee to pick it up.

Elsa pines above her, swallowing a small, wanting sound when Honeymaren smiles up at her. She stands, and Elsa mutters, “Great. Thank you.”

A strange sensation builds inside Honeymaren’s chest, and she longs to escape it. Whatever it is feels unbearable—squeamish and warm and erratic. “It’s my duty to be of service,” Honeymaren says with a nod and a smile. But Elsa flinches again, her brow turns upward in a flash of sadness.

“Naturally.” Not what Honeymaren had in mind, and it didn’t relieve the unbearable feeling in her chest, even as Elsa quietly walks away, taking a seat on a log.

While a pair of juvenile reindeer sidle up to the dejected looking woman, Honeymaren steps back. _Did I say it wrong?_ she wonders, suddenly miserable, walks back toward her riding reindeer. Even Ryder watches her incredulously, whispering, “What was that?!”

\---

Elsa shakes her head politely when Ryder offers a hand up to mount a reindeer. Maybe if Honeymaren had offered she’d accept a helping hand, but she didn’t. Rather, she sits on her reindeer, clasping her two hands tightly together. So, Elsa leaps up on her own with ease.

“Wow!” Ryder marvels. He takes his hat off and slaps it against his hand, delighted. “I thought you’d be too used to the Nokk bowing and stuff to be able to mount a deer on your own!”

She replies, smiling slightly, “I did rider horseback in Arendelle, and they are not as polite as the Nokk.”

“Which is saying something.” Elsa and Ryder simultaneously whip their heads around at Honeymaren, surprised. Her casual, relaxed grin disappears immediately, and her body stiffens. Part of Elsa can’t help but wish she was more at ease around Elsa, like when they first met. She would happily riff back and forth for hours with her, like that short moment just now.

Instead, Honeymaren mumbles that they should get going, and the three of them lead the herd back toward the village.

As they close in on their destination, the sight of the cheerful goahtis warms Elsa up some. What’s more encouraging, however, is Ryder, trotting over to Elsa’s side with a mischievous look on his face. Leaning toward her, he whispers, “Don’t worry, Els. I got your back.”

Before he explains further, her trots his reindeer over to his sister’s side. In his reindeer voice, he loudly proclaims, “Your brother’s done it now!”

“What have you done?” Honeymaren groans.

“Not me, Ryder!”

“Ryder.”

“He forgot his staff before we left!”

She groans, says, “How did you forget that?”

“Hey, Mare, don’t blame the reindeer, it’s my fault. Anyway, I’m going to go back for it, why don’t you and Elsa get the herd home and tucked in?”

“W-wait, what?”

“She’s gotta learn it sometime!”

“But Ry!”

“See ya at dinner!” he shouts, pushing his ride to a scrambling run back the way they’d come.

Honeymaren glances back at Elsa, blushing. _Why would he do this when he knows I’m uncomfortable—_ Then she spots some reindeer turning back, confused by Ryder’s reversal. But before she can shout or run back there to stop them, she sees Elsa steer her reindeer over, herds them back into the main group. She seems to guide her reindeer with impossible ease, just directing it with her shift in weight. _Must have really strong thighs,_ she thinks. The terrible feeling returns at that thought, and Honeymaren snaps her head forward.

Later, both women dismount their reindeer, and Honeymaren leads Elsa aside to join in brushing down their steeds. “It helps to cool them off, so they’re aren’t releasing a ton of body heat from exertion overnight,” she explains. Elsa nods, ever an eager learner. Once they’re side by side, brushing, Honeymaren relaxes, enjoying the familiar motions. She glances Elsa’s way and remembers Ryder’s suggestion. “By the way,” she begins, clears her throat and returns her eyes to the brush. “I, um, meant to ask you something.”

“Oh?” Elsa smiles, nearly gasping in her breath. Just like so many days ago when they had their first conversation: _Do you think that’s who’s calling me?_ she had asked Honeymaren, feeling genuine hope in her heart. And Honeymaren had responded with that bewitching smirk, charming Elsa immediately. She would give almost anything to see that side of Honeymaren again. Biting her lip, Elsa says as casually as she can, “I wanted to ask you something as well.”

“Oh,” Honeymaren says, her tone high, light, yet tense somehow. Elsa only glances sideways, worried that she might scare Honeymaren away if she looks too long. “Why don’t you go first?”

“But you asked first,” Elsa declines.

“I insist.”

“Oh you do?”

“I do.” Honeymaren sounds like she’s smirking.

“How can I say no to the next leader of the people of the sun?”

“You can’t, obviously,” Honeymaren chuckles.

 _Make this last forever!_ Elsa thinks, pining. A moment’s awkward silence follows though, and then she remembers that she’s supposed to ask her question first. “Right! Well, I wanted to invite you to some festivities next week in Arendelle…”

“Arendelle?” Honeymaren asks, perfectly aware of what Arendelle is, but shocked by the suggestion that she get to go and see it. “Um, what kind of festivities?” she asks, returning her stunned gaze to her reindeer’s withers.

“It’s a big holiday, lots of traditions,” Elsa explains, brushing a little too frantically. Her reindeer snorts back at her. “Sorry. Anyway, the whole kingdom gathers for the ringing of the Yule bell—Anna and I and all ring it—and we host a feast for everyone at the castle. Then the next day, families give presents and everyone hangs up lights, we eat cookies and play games. Granted I’ll visit early, because Anna insists I spend my birthday with her. But anyway, I would love to bring a… a friend with me.”

Biting back a gasp and a grin, Honeymaren asks, “Which day is your birthday?” She needs to feel out how worthwhile her own request might be. Yelena would expect her to be here for the solstice—would she even be able to accept this invitation?

“December twenty-second.”

“Oh, hm.”

At this point, Elsa gives up on keeping her eyes off of Honeymaren. She had hoped the invitation would excite her, but if anything, Honeymaren looks plagued with trepidation. “If that doesn’t sound like something you want to do,” Elsa offers quietly, “That’s okay… You don’t have to feel obliged.”

“Huh?!” Honeymaren balks, much more loudly than she intended. Elsa starts, accidentally freezes the brush to her hand. Her dark blue eyes dart from Honeymaren to the brush, then she simply clasps her hands (and, presumably, the brush) behind her back. “I asked because we also have festivities here next week,” Honeymaren explains, nervously grasping her own hands together, too. “That is, I was going to invite you but—”

“I’d love to go!” Elsa announces. They stare at each other for a second, both women stunned by the other.

“But I didn’t even tell you what it is,” Honeymaren points out. “There are reindeer, and ribbons, um… Traditionally, we also—"

“Yes.”

“But it sounds like there are quite a few things you need to do next week already.”

“This is true, however—”

“And the solstice is on the twenty-first, so—”

“We can take Nokk.”

They pause again. Honeymaren stands there, stunned for a couple beats. _“The_ Nokk?”

“Yes?” Elsa asks. “Is that okay? We could celebrate here, then ride Nokk to Arendelle at night.”

“You… You’d be all right with that? Postponing travel and taking me with you?”

“Of course!” Elsa smiles at Honeymaren unabashedly.

She gulps, turns her attention to her hands. “Um, okay then. Sure.”

“Wonderful!” cheers Elsa. For an instant, she’s about to hug Honeymaren, but remembers herself and only lays her hand on Honeymaren’s shoulder. She glances at Elsa’s hand, then grins shyly up at Elsa. “I’ll get everything prepared for you to visit when I go to Anna’s game night tomorrow.”

\---


	2. Wanna Build A Snowman?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly this is just silliness, enjoy

\---

**Ch. 2: Wanna Build A Snowman?**

Olaf bursts out of the castle doors, excitedly running on his stubby legs. “Elsa Elsa Elsa!” he shouts as the Nokk canters into the castle’s plaza. She giggles, then waves as Anna and Kristoff follow Olaf outside, jogging along behind him. Once she dismounts, the Nokk leaps back out the gates, neighing as he jumps off the bridge and splashes into the fjord below. Elsa kneels down, welcoming Olaf with open arms.

“I like warm hugs!” he tells her, squeezing his little arms tight as they can.

“Me too.” Elsa returns it, only letting go to brace for Anna’s running embrace.

“Anna!” Elsa chokes out, the wind nearly knocked from her.

“We missed you!” she cheers. Kristoff steps up behind her, shyly resting a hand on each sister’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Kristoff,” Elsa tells him with a wink. “You’re family, too.”

He beams down at her, says, “Thanks, Elsa.”

Wrapping his enormous arms around them both, Elsa smiles, feeling safe as she possibly can in Arendelle. _I love not being queen!_

“Whoa hold on, Els,” Anna starts as the family separates. Her eyes are cast downward, and Elsa follows their direction to her own feet. “Why aren’t you wearing boots? It is snowing!”

“But I’m fine, it doesn’t—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Anna tells her, looking like the spitting image of their mother when she was unimpressed with their childhood antics. “You’re going to track snow inside wherever you go, if nothing else.”

“Hey, I track snow in and I wear boots,” Kristoff teases, nudging his fiancée.

“And I _am_ snow!” Olaf agrees.

“Boys, shush!”

“Where’s Sven?” Elsa asks, looking around.

“Finishing off a big bowl of carrots,” Kristoff shrugs with a smirk. “I don’t take responsibility for his priorities.”

“Carrots are an important priority,” Elsa concedes, smirking back.

“Hey! You two! Don’t change the subject!” Anna shouts, then points at her crown, her arm sticking out of her thick winter cloak to do so. “That’s an order!” But she snorts through the last of it, making everyone laugh with her.

A moment later, Sven trots out of his stable, burping. When he sees Elsa, he bellows happily and runs at them, making everyone scatter. Anna trips in her many layers, but Kristoff catches her before she falls into any snow. Elsa averts a tackle, easily creating icier paths for herself to slide across until the square resembles a child’s toy train track. Meanwhile, Olaf screams “Runaway reindeer! Quick, serpentine!” But he too trips, and his various body parts start to roll and accumulate extra snow. Sven chases them all around in an impromptu game of tag. The guards and servants stand around the square and in the castle doorway, laughing at the sight.

Exhausted, the reindeer flops onto the ground. “Aww!” Elsa keens. She returns and kneels beside Sven, scratching under his chin as he smiles, panting.

“This was my plan the whole time!” Kristoff says as ‘Sven,’ also huffing from running around.

Across the square, Olaf stacks his misshapen, snowier parts of himself together and cheerfully announces, “This was not my plan!”

The humans chuckle, gathering around Sven. “Shall we adjourn for an evening of games?” Anna asks, laying the formality on thick.

“Whoa, look at you,” Kristoff teases lightly. “You sound smart!”

“So smart!” Sven ‘says.’

“I was always smart!”

“Actually,” Elsa interrupts the banter, standing. “Anna, I wanted to ask if you might have some sisterly advice. Could we talk?”

The queen of Arendelle considers Elsa a moment, then grins. “On one condition!”

“Yes?”

Anna pauses, presumably for dramatic effect. “Wanna build a snowman?”

“I GET SIBLINGS?!” Olaf shouts, rolling his various parts toward the others as best he can.

“NO!” they all shout back, flinch at the gathered enthusiasm—even Sven bellowed. Elsa saves the day, explains, “I made you at _least_ a hundred siblings on the North Mountain already!”

“Besides, we’re working on human siblings—”

Kristoff pales, and he asks Anna with a cracking voice, “We are?”

Wide eyed, Anna looks to Elsa, “So sisterly advice?! Let’s do that!” She links her arm with her snickering sister’s arm, then pauses. “No wait, hold on, no, I have a second condition, we gotta find you some boots.”

\---

After a long day with the reindeer, Honeymaren and Ryder join the community in a large goahti. They serve themselves stew and take a seat with everyone else, relaxing in the warm din of gentle voices catching up on the day’s events, preparations for the solstice, and plans for the rest of winter. As they both enjoy their first bites, Ryder asks, “Did you see Elsa off on her trip to Arendelle?”

Honeymaren shrugs, eyes on her stew. “I was there, if that’s what you mean.”

“Well, yeah,” Ryder agrees, presses onward. “But like you know…”

Glancing up from her food, Honeymaren lifts her brow at him. “Know what?”

Through a full mouth, Ryder continues, “I mean, like, aren’t you going to miss her?”

She shrugs, not really following his point. “As much as anyone else I suppose.”

Truth be told, Honeymaren feels quite forlorn without her around. Even though she knows Elsa will return tomorrow, she went about her tasks today feeling lonely. Not that Elsa regularly kept her company throughout the day generally, but nonetheless her absence was felt. In fact, she had pointedly kept a bit too busy to spend much time in Elsa’s company recently, but Honeymaren couldn’t manage to do the same amount of work while knowing Elsa wasn’t around.

However, when she glances up again, her response has made Ryder pull a lingering face, something akin to disgust. Again, she shrugs, “What?”

He puts his bowl down, crosses his arms to consider her. “Are you…”

“Am I what?”

“You’re not…” he starts, looks around the goahti, and lowers his voice. “Like… taking advantage of Elsa, are you?”

Flinching away from him, Honeymaren screws up her own face, shrugging. “What are you talking about? How on earth would I ‘take advantage’ of Elsa by seeing her off or-or missing her? We all miss her, we’ll all probably miss her next week, what…?”

Rolling his eyes, Ryder lowers his voice considerably, explains, “I mean, you aren’t _seeing someone else,_ are you?!”

Her brow furrows, unable to understand. “Wha…?” she mutters. All of a sudden, his meaning reveals itself in her mind, and she cries out in shock, “What, like I’m seeing her, like we’re TOGETHER?!”

The conversations around them instantly stop. Honeymaren slaps her hand over her mouth, feels blood rush to the surface of her skin from head to toe. Ryder tries his best to smile—guiltily—at her. In silence, he grabs his stew, grabs his sister’s arm, and pulls her outside.

\---

In the dimming light of sunset, the sisters retreat to the castle gardens. Elsa takes no shortcuts as they roll snowballs into bigger and bigger mounds. Anna joyfully takes the lead while updating Elsa on the comings and goings of Arendelle, until at last Elsa feels relaxed and ready to talk.

“So, I might have done something without your permission,” Elsa begins, her voice rising with her nerves.

“Permission?” Anna says, scoffing with a smile. She holds coal up in front of their snowman’s face, shutting an eye as though she seeks an artist’s inspiration for where to place it. “Since when do you need my permission to do anything?”

Clicking her tongue, Elsa says, “Perhaps ‘permission’ isn’t really the right word, but it would have been more courteous to ask first.”

“What’d you do?” Anna asks, smirking. “Was Dad secretly a troll prince or something?”

“No,” Elsa chuckles. Unprompted, she sweeps her capelets from behind her and sits on a bench beside her, here in the castle gardens. Anna watches her sigh. She pockets the coal within her richly green cloak and takes a seat beside Elsa. When she lays her hand on Elsa’s back, between her shoulder blades, Elsa sighs again but smiles. Quietly, she comments, “It’s good to see you.”

Anna smiles back, rubbing her shoulder with sisterly affection. “It’s good to see you, too.” She pauses, as though considering her words, then shakes her head slightly. “Anyway, what do you need my sacred royal permission for, oh Queen of Snow and Ice?”

“Please,” Elsa groans, rolling her eyes. Then, she feels herself blush slightly, feels hot—she blames the boots, but knows better. “I invited someone,” she says, “to join me here, for the holiday and my birthday. I didn’t really think about it, I asked without asking for your input when I should have, so…” Pausing, she looks up at Anna’s face to give herself a beat and think of the next words. However, Anna beams at her, smiling with the type of kindness that is her greatest strength. A gloved hand sneaks out from under Anna’s winter cloak and wraps around Elsa’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Smiling back, Elsa asks, “May I invite someone to join us?”

“Oh Elsa,” Anna sighs. It looks as though her other hand rests on her chest under her cloak. “Of course!”

They nudge each other’s shoulders, smiling at their incomplete snowman. “Thank you.”

“I’m so happy for you!” Anna squeals, nonetheless remaining surprisingly calm. It isn’t the reaction Elsa expected, even though she wasn’t certain what to expect. “I trust this is someone _special?”_

“Yes,” Elsa admits, releasing an airy, nervous laugh. She leans forward, placing her elbows on her knees and resting her chin in her hands. Biting her lip, she mutters, “Though, don’t be _too_ happy, I haven’t actually disclosed my feelings yet.”

Never one to be left out, Anna mirrors Elsa’s posture, grinning as she asks, “Tell _me_ about your feelings. Tell me all about her!”

Immediately Elsa startles, stares at her sister. “Y-you knew?”

“Knew what?”

“That…” Elsa starts, but her brain hasn’t caught up yet. “That I… With…?”

“Women?” Anna offers to finish the sentence. She shrugs. “Doesn’t everybody know that?”

This, Elsa definitely did not expect. After a significant pause, she whispers, “Do they?”

“I mean,” Anna draws out, her eyes darting from Elsa to the castle to the snowman to anyone or anything else. “Maybe?” She winces, shrugs. “I don’t know! I mean, _I_ assumed as much, but if you’re _not_ gay, that’s also totally okay. I accept you exactly as you are, whatever you prefer.”

“How could you have known, though?” Elsa asks, laughing incredulously, nervously, letting out pent up energy. It’s not every day that you find out you’re already out to your sister—or kingdom—without having to actually say anything about it.

“Honestly? Before I knew about the snow and ice powers, I kinda assumed that’s why you stayed in your room so much! I think maybe Mama and Papa _leaned in_ to that a bit, or maybe they thought so, too? I dunno. Anyway, at their funeral, I overheard some conversations, and people really wanted to see you but thought you were too ashamed and everybody was really sad because they wanted to love you so so much when—! … When they died. And by the time the snow thing came out, that was such a big surprise, I think everyone just forgot that it might be a big deal… yeah…”

Elsa has no idea how she must look right now, but Anna coos at her through a small smile and pulls her into a tight hug. They stay there, swaying slightly as she breathes through the emotions sweeping through her. _Of course,_ Anna figured it out—she’s indomitable when it comes to knowing and caring about people. And has no patience for unanswerable questions.

_“And_ I thought you had a thing about dirt.”

“Anna!”

“I had reason!”

Elsa laughs as they pull apart. She rests her forehead in her hand, shaking her head at herself.

“I know why you had to leave, I get it now,” Anna says, returning her gaze to the snow-pile-not-yet-man. “After everything that happened to us growing up, keeping you stuck here with endless paperwork and tedious meetings must have felt like just another bedroom.”

“No,” Elsa admonishes. “It was never that bad. I had you! And Kristoff and Olaf and Sven.”

“I know, but I mean, come on, you barely slept even when things were pretty chill.”

She nods in concession, only briefly. “You’re doing well at it though. You don’t let it bog you down or overwhelm you,” Elsa compliments, holding her sister’s hand and hoping her words convey her pride.

But Anna snorts, getting animated again and making exaggerated faces. “I feel overwhelmed! All the time!”

“Naturally,” Elsa giggles, seeing how Anna has remained herself even as she’s grown so much in so short a time.

“But you’re right, it feels like a challenge, a good one. Like I’m finally doing something with all this pent up…” Anna frowns, makes a series of hand motions as she tries to think of a word. “Something!”

“Love?” Elsa offers. Anna smiles at the suggestion, excited.

“Yes, that’s it!”

“You’ve always had a lot of love to give, Anna. And I know how you feel.”

“Right! Going back to the point! Tell me all about her—or him?”

“You were correct the first time,” Elsa confirms.

“What’s her name, who is it?”

“Honeymaren.”

Pumping her fist, Anna shoots to her feet and shouts, “Hell YEAH, I WIN that bet!”

\---

Honeymaren can only hear the blood rushing in her ears as her brother steers her across the village, stew in hand. When they arrive at their own goahti, he flings the door open and pulls her inside, slamming the door shut behind them. Honeymaren stands absolutely still, unable to process a single thought. For a brief moment, there’s silence as Ryder gets their fire going for light and warmth.

When he returns in front of Honeymaren, she looks up at his face with all the desperation of a child first learning how to ride a reindeer.

“Honeymaren,” he begins, taking her bowl of stew from her hands and placing beside his own bowl near the fire pit. “I… I love you. And I’m going to say a few things and it’s going to be okay.” His lips pinch, and he presses his palms together, thinking. His eyes flicker between each of Honeymaren’s, and he takes a deep breath.

“YOU DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE GAY?!”

“YOU _DID_ KNOW AND DIDN’T TELL ME?!”

Ryder looks incensed. No, possessed. “HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING THAT EVERYBODY KNEW?!” It all comes out in less than ten seconds.

Stunned, Honeymaren clutches her face with both hands. “EVERYBODY KNEW?! Everybody knows?!”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Ryder accuses, crossing his arms with an offended countenance.

“It’s not!” Honeymaren insists, throwing her hands out in front of her, shaking her head. At his glare, she asserts further, “It isn’t! I… I just…” She feels herself crumpling before it really happens.

“Mare,” Ryder utters, rushing forward as she sits on the edge of her bed, tears threatening the corners of her eyes. “Hey hey!” he says, immediately rubbing the sides of her arms, kneeling in front of her. “It’s okay!”

“No it isn’t!”

“Okay yeah,” he admits. “This is a setback, and frankly I don’t understand women besides you.”

“I don’t understand me!” she whines.

“C’mon, Mare, I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Unable to express the actual problem, Honeymaren merely shakes her head. At last, she responds to his prodding. “How did you know?”

“I…” Ryder says, and she peeks at him, rubbing the back of his neck. “You do this thing when you _seem_ to like somebody, where you start out really interested, then hide from spending time together. Like you’re hiding from your feelings, but you still keep an eye out for them and sigh a lot.”

“Wait, as in…” Honeymaren lowers her hands, feels her stomach turn. “This has happened before?”

“Uhhhhhhhh,” Ryder moans, frozen to the spot by Honeymaren’s gaze. Slowly, his shoulders shrug up. “Kinda?”

“Nooo,” she whimpers, pulling her knees up in front of her and hiding her face against them. “No no no!”

Groaning, Ryder says, “Yeah, so… This explains a few broken hearts, to be honest. I’m real sorry, Mare. I figured you were just really, I dunno…” She looks up and he puts on a serious face, fixing his posture. “Duty driven, serious!”

“I _am!”_ she insists. Shaking her head, Honeymaren uncurls herself, stands. “I… need to think, figure out what I’m going to do about…” Walking toward the door, she tells him, “I gotta go chop some firewood.”

“Wait, do about what?!”

_That’s right,_ she realizes. She didn’t tell him. With a sigh, she glances over her shoulder. “Elsa invited me to visit Arendelle with her next week.”

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Honeymaren ran away to chop wood with Ryder chasing after her, Steven Universe style, "don't run from your feelings!"


	3. Holiday Spirits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't spell check or edit this at all, it's too long lol, sorry y'all  
> Totes general audiences until you get to my endnotes. have fun!

\---

**Chapter 3: Holiday Spirits**

The sun sets behind Elsa and the Nokk as they approach the shore of Northuldra, illuminating the snow-laden forest in golden light. It’s barely midday, and Elsa’s thrilled to spend the sunless day with the people of the Sun tomorrow, find out what this solstice business is all about. In the distance, she smiles to see someone awaiting them on the shore.

As they get closer, however, Elsa squints and is surprised to not see Honeymaren. Arriving at the shore, Yelena waves and waits patiently for the Nokk and Elsa to say a quick goodbye. Her elder clasps her hands behind her back, smirking slightly as Elsa approaches her. Elsa asks, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Yelena takes the lead in walking back toward the village as she nods and says, “I’ve got your wife working on preparations for tomorrow.” Completely unfazed, Yelena remains still as a certain salamander scurries out of a nearby bush, up the women’s body, and leaps from Yelena’s head to Elsa’s hands.

Elsa scoffs at Yelena’s teasing, going so far as to flick snowflakes from her fingertips at the elder, next flicking some down at Bruni. Nonetheless she blushes at the insinuation. “Stop.”

“Over my dead body,” Yelena snickers.

“What kind of preparations are needed for tomorrow? Anything I can help with?”

“Surely you’re too tired from your travel,” Yelena insists, frowning at her. “I’m too old for the heavy lifting these days. Especially since we’re moving the celebration back to its original location.”

“All the more reason to offer my assistance,” Elsa insists. Admittedly, if Honeymaren is somewhere lifting something heavy, she wants to witness.

“Elsa…” she chides.

Just then, they walk by the four sieidi of the forest’s spirits, tall stones carved with the signs of fire, air, water, and earth. In front of the stones as old as the tribe itself, a group of young men construct a platform and a pyre. Young men and Honeymaren. Once Elsa sees her, she can’t keep from watching her work. She bites her lip, smiling at the calm assuredness with which Honeymaren moves, joking with her friends and giving instructions.

Suddenly, she remembers herself mid-sigh. Glancing sideways nervously at Yelena with her lip still between her teeth, Elsa braces herself. Her elder smirks at her. “Mhmm. ‘Assistance.’”

Even the fire spirit in Elsa’s hand seems to laugh at her, little flames dancing across his back after Yelena speaks. “Don’t encourage her,” Elsa grumbles down at him, but petting him again nonetheless.

“You missed quite the show, yesterday,” Yelena continues. She starts walking again, quickly, and Elsa jogs a few steps to catch up. Her eyes linger back over her shoulder on Honeymaren a moment as they leave the area.

“Show?”

“She chopped enough wood to keep us stocked for a year.”

“Hm!” Elsa’s stride pauses, her mind remembering other times that Honeymaren has chopped wood. Then she realizes that there are in fact many more piles of firewood next to homes than when she’d left. Balking, Elsa asks, “Wait, what? Really? Why??”

Snickering, Yelena says, “I’ll let her tell you the story. Now, I do actually have a few things for you to do before the sunlight’s all gone today. Tomorrow, I’ll ask that you do whatever makes the spirits happy. Frankly, I don’t know how they’ll act.”

\---

In the flickering light of a regular campfire, Honeymaren chews her dinner and looks over the pyre. She only looks away when Ryder shows up in front of her. “Ry?” she asks through her full mouth.

“Hey guys, move over,” Ryder tells the others sitting at this particular fire. “Come on, Viggu, make room.” Without waiting for the young man to move, he takes a seat beside Honeymaren.

She holds up her food, out of the way as he settles in. “Can I help you?”

“We can only hope,” he says, pinning her with a grave stare.

“Is… Are the reindeer okay?”

“What? Yes, obviously! That’s not why I’m here,” Ryder hisses. “You haven’t seen Elsa since she got back today?”

“Er,” she starts, guiltily looking at her food instead of her brother. “No.”

“But you like her!”

“Shh!” Honeymaren’s eyes zip around at the others. “You don’t know that!”

“Everyone knows, calm down!”

Frowning deeply, Honeymaren pinches her lips. _This isn’t fair,_ she thinks. Years of putting everybody else first, and the thanks she gets is being the butt end of the whole village’s jokes. _All because of a…_ She shakes her head, frustrated, won’t even let herself think the word ‘crush.’

“Are you listening to me at all?” Ryder asks, his elbows resting on his knees as he slouches down into a glare at her.

“No, I’m ignoring you,” Honeymaren growls. “And I do not ‘like’ Elsa. Not like that. I like her the same way everybody likes her. We’re friendly.” She steers her bitter scowl to her food, takes another big bite.

“Tuh.” Ryder rolls his eyes dramatically. “Look, almost everyone _‘likes’_ Elsa. She’s kind, smart, powerful, and beautiful. If I was attracted to women, I’m sure I’d be drooling.”

A voice across the fire jokes over the conversations around the fire, “I _am_ drooling!”

“Egel, dude!” Ryder chides, “Not helpful!” However, Honeymaren launches to her feet. The small group of friends becomes a chorus of ‘oohhs!’ and laughter.

“Hey!” she shouts, suddenly aflame with anger. “Don’t you dare—!” As she marches around the fire toward Egel, he chuckles nervously, then somersaults backwards off his perch on a log, jogs away. Honeymaren huffs and puffs, her body tense.

“You will notice, dear sister,” Ryder calls across the crackling fire. “Nobody else did that!”

Her stomach sinks. Spinning on the spot, she crosses her arms. “So, what?”

Ryder sweeps over to her side, and she hates his stupid face in a uniquely elder-sibling way. “If you liked her the same as everybody else, do you really think you’d react like that?”

“I… don’t want her—my friend—to be… ogled!”

He sighs, shaking his head. She flinches when he wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Mare… _You_ ogle her.”

She squeaks, feels another wave of heat surge through her body. A very different heat from a moment ago. It’s too much, and she tugs at her collar, feeling absolutely miserable. Was this sensation ‘liking’ someone? _It’s terrible_ , she thinks. No wonder she never felt like this before, didn’t recognize it—up until this year, everything was always so terrible on its own.

Up until Elsa happened to them all.

Til Elsa happened to her.

Then Ryder leans in close to her ear, whispers low enough that no one else will notice or tease her. “The difference is that you’re the only one she ogles back.”

Honeymaren groans, nearly screams, shoves her hat against her face. “Aaaahhhh you can’t _say_ something like that!!”

“What’d he say?!”

“Don’t ask questions, Varva!” Ryder tells the heckler tersely.

“You’re wrong!” Honeymaren’s voice cracks, and desperation leaks out. “This isn’t—I don’t—We just—Ugh I can’t think!”

“Tell you what, if you can get through the day tomorrow without admitting to yourself that you like Elsa, I’ll drop it. Call it a bet,” Ryder says, sneering smugly as he pulls the hat away from her face. “Although, you know, you still gotta get through a whole _trip_ with her, so I’ll probably be right anyway.”

As Honeymaren takes a deep breath, she channels every ounce of cool, calm collectedness she can. Narrowing her eyes at him, she offers a hand for him to shake. “It’s a bet.”

The wind chitters and sings around them. _Oh shit,_ Honeymaren thinks to herself. _Gale heard._

\---

When Elsa wakes up in the dark of her goahti, she wakes up smiling. If her life were an opera, a song would be sung right now as she sweeps through the village, offering a cheerful hand to everyone she meets—mainly accompanied by Bruni, who mainly does the work. While he starts fires for everyone getting ready for the festivities in the dark, Elsa feels a pull toward the river.

There, she finds Nokk prancing. She smiles, walking forward as her frolics at the edge of the water.

“Do you want to join us today?” Elsa asks. He nickers softly, almost as if he asks her, ‘please.’ She approaches his nose and frosts him over, laughs as he prances onto the snowy shore. “Do you want to race?” she asks. Nokk snorts, happy as she’s ever seen. Then, they feel the earth shake, and Elsa looks up. Over the top of the trees, a small entourage of earth giants rise. They walk past and wave on their way to the sieidi. Shy but grinning, Elsa waves back. Thus distracted, she almost misses it when Nokk takes off running. Chasing after him, she shouts, “Hey, no fair!”

By the light of the colorful ribbons that dance across the sky, Honeymaren finishes brushing out Turnip. She drops her grooming tools in a pale, then reaches into her bag.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” she tells the reindeer. The doe sniffs at her hands, excited. Out comes several carrots. Honeymaren giggles as the reindeer bellows her thanks, eats one carrot after another. In the distance, she hears laughter, down the hill from the reindeer herd and herself. She turns to look and spots a woman in all white with light hair racing after the Nokk. A purple flame joins the fun, lighting firepits among the families. In the distance, she even spots the earth giants ambling toward the sieidi.

With a sigh, Honeymaren pets Turnip’s nose, smiling down at the vision. Maybe it’d be okay if she likes Elsa. She sighs again, and Turnip nudges her. “I gave you all my carrots. Only right to spoil you before your big day.”

Turnip shoves her head against Honeymaren, and she takes the hint to pet the deer again. “All right,” she says, bending down for her pale of tools and grasping one of Turnip’s horns. “Time to go.”

She hears a chittering sound on the wind as they approach the goahtis, headed toward the pyre before everyone gathers. Bracing herself, Honeymaren smirks and calls out, “Hello, Gale, can we help you?”

Across the village, Elsa hears Honeymaren’s voice on the wind. She looks up immediately, sees Honeymaren being teased by Gale while walking toward the sieidi (sacred markers of sacred land, she’s learned). They hadn’t gotten to talk yesterday. But she’s not afraid—Anna agreed to make all the arrangements her romantic heart desires in preparation for Elsa and Honeymaren’s visit. So today, she needs to be brave, and the idea of finally doing something about this crush of hers feels like a huge relief.

Nearby, she hears chuckling, making her glance around—Yelena and another elderly woman, Aidna. “Don’t let us interrupt,” Aidna chuckles, glancing Honeymaren’s way.

Smiling softly, Elsa quirks her brow. “Whatever could you mean, dear Aidna?”

“Oh no, don’t look at _me_ like that, ha!” Aidna jests, pretending to blush under Elsa’s gaze. Yelena chuckles, offers a steadying arm to their eldest member of the tribe. To be fair, Elsa laughs, too. “I’m too old for pining!”

“Nonsense,” Elsa says. “You’re never too old for such things.” It only took twenty-five years for her to believe it herself.

“Trust me,” Yelena grumbles, but Elsa spots a light of mischief in her eyes. “You can.”

“If you are capable of jokes on the subject,” Elsa challenges, “then, I believe you are capable of pining yourself.” The leader of the tribe ‘tuh’s at her, shakes her head. “Come now, Yelena, let me have it.”

“Excuse me?” Yelena asks flatly. Aidna chuckles again, glancing Yelena’s way.

Setting her hands on her hips and smiling coolly, Elsa tells her, “I am certain you had a joke at my expense as well, so let’s hear it. And make it quick, I mean to do better than yearn today.”

Both elders laugh, delightfully surprised by Elsa’s change of tune from her usual restrained admiration. Under her breath, Yelena mutters, “That girl is _not_ ready for this.” She levels her eyes on Elsa, though, and says, “Just try not to give her frostbite anywhere important, snowflake.”

While Aidna guffaws, Elsa feels her face turn red. She pinches her lips, trying not to laugh in Yelena’s smug face. Aidna’s bright smile is contagious, though, and she gives in to laughter at her own expense. Finally, she takes a steadying breath and admits, “I have no rebuttal.”

“Go on, then,” Yelena encourages.

Meanwhile, Honeymaren struggles with Turnip and the wind spirit. She’s at least gotten Turnip tied to a tree branch behind the cooking pyre, but Honeymaren has the distinct impression that both reindeer and spirit are having a laugh at her expense.

“Give me that hat!” she growls as she yanks the fur lined hat from Gale’s invisible clutches above her head. Smirking at, well, nothing exactly, Honeymaren gets caught off guard as snow from the tree overhead drops onto her head. “Ugh! Gale!”

Next thing she knows, the wind spirit sings right by her ear, and her braid swings around, covering her eyes. “Now come on! Really?” Honeymaren shouts. “I know you’re excited, but we can’t give you offerings if you keep messing around!” She tries to remove the hair from her eyes, but struggles nonetheless.

Beside herself, Honeymaren struggles to stay on her feet. “Gale, I’m gonna fall!” she hollers, finally getting her hair out of her face. Much to her surprise, when her braid falls back into position, Honeymaren sees Elsa, hiding a giggle as she walks toward her, already close.

“Els!” she yelps. Sure enough, her foot catches on her own leg and she trips. She shuts her eyes in preparation for falling into the deep snow. But the wet, cold landing never comes. When she opens her eyes, Elsa has stepped in, her arms loosely holding Honeymaren upright-ish. Under her layers of winter clothes, Honeymaren feels her entire body flush.

“It looked as though you needed some assistance.”

She stands upright quickly, sweeps as much snow off herself as she can in a second or two, faces Elsa with a smile. “I, ah… Thank you.”

With a glance upward, Elsa chides, “Gale, do you have anything you’d like to say to Honeymaren?”

More snow falls from above, this time on Elsa’s head.

“Yipe!”

“Ohoha! Oh no!” Honeymaren laughs despite herself. Elsa looks shocked, and as she shakes her head free of snow and shoots a volley of ice in Gale’s direction, Honeymaren’s chest tightens. _Oh… that’s what that is,_ she thinks, recognizing the sensation. Yeah, she _has_ been feeling this way around Elsa for a while. Even when they first met, a little bit.

“All right, that’s enough teasing for today, I believe!” Elsa grumbles Gale’s way, but she grins at Honeymaren out the corner of her eye.

Another sensation, slightly different, shoots through her. _How does anybody deal with this?!_ Honeymaren wonders. She was just about to step forward and wipe snow off her friend, and yet here she is, standing there uselessly, biting her lip. And now there’s no snow to wipe off Elsa, which disappoints Honeymaren for some reason. Rubbing her own bicep, she tries to recover, asks, “Uh, are the o-other spirits teasing you today?”

“No, that particular activity only amuses Gale.”

So… people were teasing Elsa?

“Why hello, Turnip, what brings you here?” Elsa asks, noticing the reindeer. Turnip greets her with a snort and a nudge. Immediately, Elsa starts petting her. She comments, babying the reindeer a little, “Did you get a special grooming today? Aren’t you beautiful!”

Her breathing stops. What’s more, Honeymaren’s hand grips her own arm with a ferocity that she didn’t know she could feel through all her winter layers. Because if she lets go, her hands are both going to clutch at her chest. Because Elsa.

Then: “So what _is_ Turnip doing down here by her lonesome today?”

Honeymaren’s face drops, and Elsa’s cheerful smile falters. “Uhhhhhhhh…”

Nothing. No words. Not even sounds beside the one. And in the meantime, Elsa clearly puts two and two together, looking from the reindeer to the nearby sieidi to the pyre to the gathering community.

“It is…” Honeymaren starts. But she stops because her voice sounds wrong. Her mouth is dry; she tries to swallow so she can speak, but to no avail. Although it’s a bit harder to tell in the dark on their one sunless day of the year, Elsa’s face appears to turn ashen grey. _Say something, anything!_ “Turnip… We… Every year, you see we—well, we’re supposed to do it every year, but haven’t because these sieidi were locked away from us in the mist—and there’s um prayers for mental health in the dark, uhhhhh…”

The ground shakes. Both women look behind them: The earth giants have taken a seat off to the side, near as they can get to their sieidi without damaging anything. Elsa blinks at them for a moment, then turns, notices Bruni laying on his sieidi, too. Nokk frolics among the people a bit, but overall is trotting in the direction of his own sieidi as well. And Gale is already here.

Each of the spirits looks joyous. They _feel_ happy, she can sense it. In fact, everyone looks excited, even Turnip.

Except Honeymaren. She frowns, her brow turning upward with increasing concern for Elsa’s own state.

“Elsa? Are you okay? Should I…” Honeymaren’s hand reaches out, flinches, returns and rests on her other gloved hand. “Can I—?”

“I’m okay! Completely normal!” Elsa squeaks, slapping on a brave smile. Or rather, she aims for a brave smile. But whatever’s going on with her face, Honeymaren looks even more concerned. Worried, even. “Everything’s great!”

Glancing behind Elsa, Honeymaren spots Yelena leading a small group of elders toward the two of them. The ceremony will begin shortly. Returning her gaze to Elsa, she grimaces. “It’s okay if you’re _not_ , Elsa.”

She whimpers a little bit. “I’m fine!” Elsa insists. “I am completely…” Then her eyes contract, and her pale hand trembles. A sickly heat climbs Elsa’s spine, making her tremble. When she makes eye contact with Honeymaren, she thinks with horror, _I’m gonna be sick._

“Wait, Elsa!” Honeymaren calls after her as she suddenly turns tail and runs into the forest.

“Is there a problem?”

Peeking back over her shoulder at Yelena, Honeymaren shrugs, winces. “I think she’s squeamish about blood.” She can’t bring herself to turn back toward her elders, but Honeymaren is _supposed_ to be joining them. Taking up a mantle of leadership. Or at least witness the restoration of a sacred ritual for her people. Not that she particularly wants to participate in this particular ritual, but it’s her responsibility.

“Hey.” A hand lands on Honeymaren’s shoulder, bringing her back to the present. Yelena speaks. “It’s okay, kiddo.”

“A-a-are you sure?” Honeymaren says at too high a pitch. Suddenly she realizes that wanting to follow Elsa and actually going through with it… feels very high stakes.

“We can handle it,” Yelena assures her, and the others with her nod along. “We’ve got these four spirits, you handle that one.”

“H-handle—?!”

Yelena groans loudly, rolling her eyes. “Just go!”

No way to get out of a direct order. Muttering embarrassed apologies, Honeymaren spins back around and chases after Elsa’s tracks. Never in her life has Yelena been exasperated with her. She’s never _not_ known what to do, or picked up a task quickly. A love and responsibility for her people drives Honeymaren, and that always steered her in the right direction as Yelena’s protégé. Now… this…

Elsa is the first person—first anything—that Honeymaren hasn’t known how to ‘handle.’

“Elsa? Elsa!”

_No, no, no! She can’t see me like this!_ thinks Elsa, doubled over and leaning on a tree for support. Any second now, Honeymaren would see past that slope behind Elsa and find her nauseated. She’d probably be insulted by Elsa’s behavior. No, she hasn’t actually vomited, but—

“Elsa?”

She shrieks, jumping. “Honeymaren!” Right beside her, a tentative hand stretched out toward her shoulder, stands Honeymaren. And she stiffens, eyes wide at Elsa’s reaction, but maintains her composure. Making up for her own lack thereof, Elsa apologizes. “Sorry, you… you startled me.”

“Bad habit,” Honeymaren says through a guilty grin. “I hunt a lot. Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Elsa nods, smiling. Any other time, this would be wonderful, because for a second, it’s just like that night they first met, and Honeymaren seems relaxed and eager to put Elsa at ease, but right this stomach-churning second—“Are you okay?”

Her eyes flicker down from Elsa’s eyes. She licks her lips instinctually; Did Honeymaren really look…?

Quieter—“Elsa?”

“I’m fine!”

“It’s all right if you’re not.”

“I…” Another wave of nausea. She moans slightly, leans heavily against the tree.

“I mean it,” Honeymaren says. If she were completely honest, she doesn’t enjoy watching a sacrifice herself, although even less so a regular old slaughter. And if that’s all Elsa’s seen… “What if I tell you what happens?”

“Huh?” Elsa asks, her voice unusually low with trepidation.

“So… so it’s not a shock,” Honeymaren suggests. Looking Elsa over, and considering the sacrifice is only one small part of the day. But an important part nonetheless. A part of their shared culture… that, thanks to Elsa, will be there in the future… Honeymaren inhales deeply through her nose, letting her eyelids close longer than average. In that brief moment of darkness, Honeymaren lets herself forget that she doesn’t know what to do, “So that it’s not a shock… _next_ year.”

When she opens her eyes, she sees Elsa looking at her in a way that steals her breath. The midday moonlight doesn’t help. And thank goodness, because the not-knowing sweeps back into Honeymaren, and a moment before the not-knowing takes over and make her anxiously push Elsa away, she says, “Okay. Yeah.”

Before she knows what happened, Elsa’s on another plane. Although Honeymaren only takes chance glances her way, she speaks to Elsa for a solid hour. Or more, hard to tell. No sunlight today after all. Bit by bit, she forgets her nausea and instead listens to one fable after another myth, until the stories weave into something warm as a blanket. And this one (admittedly difficult) aspect of the winter solstice celebration was only one tassel on that blanket… that scarf of her mother’s. Just one expression of that life her mother lived and never got to share. But more than that, it was one of many strands and tassels that the People of the Sun could have back, now that the dam was broken and the mist was lifted.

Biting her lip but smiling, Honeymaren says, “Well, we’re back.”

Elsa looks up. They are back by the sieidi. Her eyes whizz around expectantly, but… “Did we miss it?”

Nodding, Honeymaren hums in the affirmative. “Next year, we can be here for it.” Elsa follows her brown eyes toward the sieidis of earth, fire, wind, and water. She contains a gasp at the sight of red blood on each stone—far less than she had imagined earlier. Her eyes move naturally back to Honeymaren.

“You should have been here for it,” Elsa softly says. “I’m sorry.”

Again, Honeymaren only chances a glance her way, but again with an even quicker glance from her eyes to her lips and back. She smirks again, looks away, shrugs. “I’ll live. Next year, yeah?”

Suddenly, Elsa’s hand is cold—not that she minds it, the cold is perceptible but never painful. (Except in the depths of a certain glacier, but that’s beside the point.) Only then does Elsa realize that Honeymaren led her back here by holding her hand. The shock is almost enough to overcome the disappointment. _Just you wait,_ Elsa thinks, blue eyes full of Honeymaren. _I have no idea what I’m doing, and that’s when I do the most incredible things._

After several hours of activities—mainly talking, eating, and dancing, with some prayer-meditation mixed in—Honeymaren feels her eyes drooping. “Wasn’t there something else I was supposed to do today?” she asks her brother.

Ryder smiles down at her. “Yes, we’re on our way there right now.” They are walking, that makes sense. “Actually,” Ryder says, stopping in his tracks. Honeymaren stops too. She looks to her side, sees that his arm is over her shoulder, his hand holding her still. Returning her gaze to her little brother, she quirks her brow, awaiting an explanation.

“What?”

“Promise me something.”

“Never,” she responds, shaking her head sleepily.

He steps in front of her, facing her, holds her by the shoulders as he gives her a cross stare. “You have to.”

She smirks, says, “Like shit I do.”

“Just—!” He growls, then sighs. “Please. You don’t have to come back with Elsa on your arm, just tell her how you feel.”

 _Don’t know how to do that,_ Honeymaren thinks. “Sure.”

“No, no more ‘sure,’ okay!? After whatever forest escapade you had during the ceremony, you avoided her for the rest of the day, and I might not know much about women, but gosh darnit—!”

Nearby, Elsa stands on the fjord’s shore. The night sky radiates darkness the way the sun radiates light, and after a whole twenty-four hours of starlight, she really thinks she can tell the difference between daytime-darkness and nighttime-darkness. While she and the Nokk wait, Elsa watches the Nattura siblings, saying their goodbyes. Admittedly, Honeymaren looks a little out of it from here. _Maybe from chopping all that wood the other day._

Shortly enough, she and Honeymaren will be on their way to Arendelle. Elsa smiles to herself. As drowsy Honeymaren approaches, she reaches out. For once, she doesn’t hesitate to take Elsa’s hand. She helps Honeymaren leap to the Nokk’s back and follow suit.

“Take care of her, okay?!” Ryder shouts from not-that-far-away.

Elsa suppresses a grimace, and responds in kind, “I will!” The Nokk whinnies, rearing back and taking off with lightning speed down the fjord. As she reaches forward to grasp hold, Elsa realizes that Honeymaren has already fallen asleep in front of her.

\---


	4. Hygge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare  
> For  
> A  
> Fluff  
> Bomb  
> (that never ends, holy shit this chapter is long)  
> (and I didn't edit it at all, don't tell me if I tell the same sub-story twice, lol)

\---

**Chapter 4: Hygge**

A strange sound, almost like knocking, alerts Honeymaren that she’s at the edge of dreaming. When she hears it a second time, she opens her eyes against the fog of sleep. Not that she can see much—darkness surrounds her except for a square of dim moonlight at her side. Which is weird.

Knocking again. Blinking rapidly, her eyes adjust and she sees that she’s in a room of wood, with a pane of glass letting in the light from outside. The wind outside knocks against the window’s frame, whistling low. Slowly, moonlight illuminates a plush bed and the embers of an extinguished fire in a nearby firepit. Fire box? Everything in the room is oddly square, from the bed to the window, from the walls to the floor, from a nearby table to the images framed upon the walls.

Bit by bit, Honeymaren recalls being asleep before, earlier tonight, and waking up. Hushed voices ushering her through a gratuitously expansive building, chief among them being Elsa’s voice. So she had obliged.

Taking in these surroundings, Honeymaren bites her lip. Finding herself alone at night in a room of such… distinction pushes her to unease. She swings her legs off the edge of the bed, notices her boots by the door. A walk might help, she figures. However, as she moves to stand, her hand lands on the table beside the bed, fingers alighting against an unexpected texture. Looking back, she notices a piece of paper, different from the kind they make at home. It is also squarish.

Considering it with curiosity and suspicion, Honeymaren picks up the note and brings it to the window for light. At first, her expectations are low because she can’t read a thing in Arendellian text, but then she realizes the marks aren’t writing at all. It’s a map of some kind. Also squarish. Very different from how she would draw a map—rows of changing lines, horizons and landmarks. Glancing away, Honeymaren remembers spying on the Arendellian soldiers once, spotting one of their maps.

 _It’s an overhead perspective,_ she observes, humming to herself. That means these arrows are directions to… a drawing of a face. With a braid. _Why would I need a map to myself?_ Honeymaren wonders, fingers in her flattened hair. Internally, she reprimands herself for not properly freeing it before getting into bed. Then she remembers—Elsa arrived in her life with a braid.

The room is creeping Honeymaren out a bit. And not having Ryder around doesn’t help. Or anybody around. She’s never slept by herself before, not even on longer hunting trips.

Several minutes later, Honeymaren walks softly through more squarish spaces—halls adorned with windows and curtains and carpets and wooden beams, dimly lit by moonlight and candles. She calls softly “Elsa?”

No luck. One, two, three times, she starts over from the beginning with this odd map. Each time she finds herself in stranger and stranger rooms and hallways. During her fourth attempt, frustrated to no end by her newfound incompetence, Honeymaren crumples up the note and throws it at nothing in particular. She groans at herself, crosses her arms, then spins on the spot as a door creaks open right behind her.

“Honeymaren?”

“Elsa, hi!” she gasps, slaps on a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—well, I kinda did mean to wake you, not right now like this. I mean, if I woke you up, I don’t know, so…” _Right,_ Honeymaren recalls, _You’re a total wreck around her._ Feeling completely incompetent is not a sensation she likes.

Without missing a beat, Elsa smiles gently, suppressing a giggle, and asks, “Do you need anything?”

“Uhh…” Honeymaren rubs the back of her neck, and she doesn’t realize she’s looking Elsa up and down until it’s too late, until she’s licking her lips at the dark purple shift and white shawl, until she’s blushing at parted lips and blue eyes and long hair falling over her shoulders.

Elsa totally sees, quirks her brow at Honeymaren, shooting her a look that’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

“Nope!” Honeymaren squeaks. She grins sheepishly, tries to come up with some excuse. “Just walking… around. To stretch my legs.”

Her blue eyes glance over Honeymaren, assessing. Elsa’s gentle tone returns, making Honeymaren release the tension in her shoulders. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Er… sort of,” Honeymaren admits. Sighing, she looks down at her feet and lets her anxious hands grip at each other. “Actually…”

“Yes?”

An unexpected enthusiasm in Elsa’s voice makes Honeymaren briefly glance up at her again, but not for long. “It’s just that I’ve never slept anywhere without someone nearby to… There’s so much space between rooms and… That is, um, could I maybe…?”

Thundering heart beats threaten to carry Elsa away. Honeymaren never struck her as the nervous type; Seeing her this way now is charming. Adorable. Potentially encouraging.

And little does she know that Elsa hasn’t slept at all since their arrival. Some company would help enormously.

She interrupts the anxious rambling by reaching out from under her shawl and carefully prying Honeymaren’s hands apart from each other, holding both of her hands in both of her own. Immediately, Honeymaren stops talking. When Elsa glances up at her face, she’s staring at their hands and her chest is notably still.

“Come in,” she tells Honeymaren softly. Gently, Elsa pulls her into her the bedroom. Not her old room—she put Honeymaren in there. She never sleeps in her childhood room anymore. Leading her by the hand, she allows herself a silent huzzah once her head is turned.

“A-are you sure?” Honeymaren asks, following nonetheless. “I don’t want to intrude, I should go back, what if—?”

“Trust me,” Elsa assures her, catching Honeymaren’s brown eyes out of the corners of her own. She tightens her grip on Honeymaren’s hand and says, “You’re welcome here.” But her voice wavers slightly.

Those brown eyes widen slightly, dark brows pinching upward. Softer than a whisper, Honeymaren asks, “Are you okay?”

“I…” Elsa considers her options. It’s too soon to get into all the trauma. And too late at night. What she wants is snuggles, pronto, but Honeymaren perceives something amiss.

More settled, she tells Elsa, “Take your time.”

 _Ugh,_ she thinks. _Just take me now._ “I don’t care for solitude,” Elsa says at last, curling one corner of her lips up slightly.

Understanding, Honeymaren smirks, nods slowly. “That makes sense. Let’s get you some sleep.” She thinks, _That’s why Elsa left a map. It wasn’t just in case I needed something. She needs a friend, too._ Elsa nods back, climbs into the bed while Honeymaren takes in her surroundings quickly. Spotting a chair in the corner, Honeymaren walks over to it and lays her outermost layers upon it. Quickly, she undoes her braid and runs her fingers through her dark hair until it feels less stiff.

Right before she turns around, however, another strange sensation hits Honeymaren. She looks down at herself in her green undershirt and undershorts, alarm bells ringing in her head when her insides squirm with hunger. Not regular hunger though. Her skin tingles, and suddenly she feels very self-conscious. Deciding on the spot that she can and _will_ be a brave friend, Honeymaren grits her teeth and turns around.

Elsa watches her guest spin on her heel, face set with a look of determination worthy of battle. Indeed, Honeymaren marches to the bed and climbs in with such… grit, for lack of a better word, that Elsa scarcely gets a good look at her. Nonetheless, Honeymaren sighs deeply once she’s under the covers. “This smells nice,” she offers, referring to the blankets up to her eyes.

Chuckling, Elsa says, “Yes. Thanks.”

“Thank you.”

\---

The next time Honeymaren wakes up, white light fills the room and Elsa isn’t in the bed. “Huh?” Sitting up, her eyes turn to the windows—a blizzard rages outside. “ELSA?!”

She’s up in a flash, running for the door, then backtracking and throwing her clothes back on with haste. Honeymaren practically runs through the closed door—and would have knocked it down if it hadn’t . Despite the unfamiliarity with the hallway, the blueprint of her ‘walk’ rises in her mind. And Honeymaren runs. Although she calls Elsa’s name repeatedly, Honeymaren decides her goal should be finding a door to outside, where the blizzard is.

“Elsa! Elsa! Elsa?!”

Then: “Honeymaren?”

_What?!_ Honeymaren pauses, taking in her surroundings. She turns after a short moment, jogs around a corner, then another, finds herself at a large pair of doors. Frowning slightly with confusion, Honeymaren clears her throat and knocks. “Elsa?”

Doors swing inward, startling her a second until she spots both Elsa and Queen Anna in their nightclothes. They both eye her curiously, and Honeymaren realizes she’s panting a bit.

“Honeymaren, what’s wrong?”

“Are you okay?” she asks Elsa urgently, shifting her weight forward but stopping herself before actually rushing in to hug the woman.

“Yes?” Elsa says, her voice raising at the end as her eyes shift back and forth between Honeymaren’s.

“And I’m fine, too,” Anna says, wide eyes whizzing between Honeymaren and Elsa. “Just saying, ‘cuz I’m here.”

“Are _you_ all right, Honeymaren?” Elsa asks.

Deflating slightly, she feels her nerves around all things Elsa catch up with her. “I… I saw the snow, and…” Honeymaren has only ever seen Elsa in complete control of her powers, at peace with the world around her. But thanks to a certain living snowman, she does know that blizzards outside-of-control are an option. Clearing her throat again and fixing her posture, Honeymaren says, “It’s nothing, I just woke up disoriented, that’s all.”

Anna coos, “Oh! Were you worried about Elsa?”

The named woman whips her head around to glare at her sister, blushing furiously. Anna giggles at the sight. Then tries (and fails) to suppress a laugh at Honeymaren’s own blushing face. “I-I just—! I didn’t know if—!”

“Ignore her,” Elsa darkly says to Honeymaren. She side-eyes her sister, glaring and quirking her brow. It’s a look Honeymaren’s never seen on Elsa before, something mildly frightening, yet Anna just starts laughing harder. Turning those ice-cold eyes to Honeymaren and softening slightly, she continues, “Much as I would _love_ to take credit, this blizzard is not my doing.”

“But you _could_ stop it!” Anna insists, cutting off her own laughter. Turning her attention to the third woman present, excitement nonetheless animates the queen. “And we have this whole day planned, Honeymaren! It’s Elsa’s birthday, and we were going to all go into town and show you off—I mean!”

More glares. Honeymaren continues to dislike not knowing what’s going on.

“I _mean_ show off the town! To you, Honeymaren! Visit shops, meet some people, et cetera et cetera et cetera!” Anna continues. Sheepishly grinning at Elsa, Anna takes Honeymaren by the elbow and steers her into the room.

A large fireplace crackles happily opposite a large couch with matching chairs close by. Behind it, lots of windows give a clear view of the raging storm outside. Honeymaren notes how impressive the room is in that she can barely hear any strain with the buffeting winds. All around, tall shelves full of books—different from the kind Honeymaren is familiar with, but she recognizes them from Elsa’s previous trips. And in the corner, a two-plus-meter evergreen tree… because that’s… _That’s not normal. Right?_

“So!” Anna continues, interrupting Honeymaren’s observations. “We should get her to _stop_ the storm! So we can celebrate with all of Arendelle!”

Sounds to Honeymaren like a lot of people. An important detail stands out. “Elsa, it’s your birthday?”

“You didn’t tell her?!”

“I mentioned it,” Elsa grumbles, rolling her eyes.

“But not which day? Nevermind, nevermind! Elsa, stop the storm!” To the side, Anna adds, “Back me up, Honeymaren!”

Unaffected, Elsa crosses her arms. “I am not working on my birthday.”

“But celebrating!”

“No.” Honeymaren spots the faintest grin cross Elsa’s face for less than a second.

“Please?!”

“And I don’t take requests.”

Now Anna looks at her crossly, plants her fists on her hips. “Since when, pray tell?”

“Since I don’t have a kingdom to run.”

“But I _do,_ and I had a whole plan!”

Honeymaren smirks because this is pretty cute. Elsa pauses in her rebuttal, though, and her eyes move to Honeymaren. Then, she really does smile. “We can do the plan tomorrow.”

“Augh!” Anna shouts. “Fine! But you better be taking requests then—”

The rest is lost to Honeymaren’s ears, filled instead with the sound of blood rushing as Elsa takes her by the hand and leads her to the couch. Slowly, she sits down by Elsa, feeling her heart keep its pace despite no longer running around.

“Besides,” Elsa says, winking at Honeymaren and interrupting her sister’s speech. “I gave all the servants who do not reside within the castle grounds to take the day off.”

“…and—! Oh, actually, good idea, that’s safer, yeah,” Anna agrees. “Wait, that’s an order. That’s work!”

Nothing escapes Elsa’s mouth, but her royal demeanor appears to speak for her.

“Okay fine! I give in! Happy birthday, Elsa!” The sisters giggle, and Honeymaren feels a palpable warmth in the room distinct from the fire. Waving her hand, Anna announces, “I’ll see if Chef is available, and if not, I’ll get us some breakfast started. After I change. Elsa, you gonna change?”

“Mmm, eventually,” Elsa says, glancing from Anna to Honeymaren.

“Right,” Anna says slyly. “Well, birthday queen, I’ll check on the boys while I’m at it.”

“Do you want any help?” Honeymaren offers quietly.

“Oh no!” Anna insists. “Trust me, a day off is just what _this_ Queen of Arendelle is here for, and all of this is nothing compared to a regular day’s tasks.” For her part, Elsa makes a humming sound indicating a bitter agreement. “Hey, I love it!” Anna announces, and Honeymaren believes her. She claps her hands and rubs them together, says, “Okay I’m gonna go do the things! You two be dressed by the time I get back!”

With that, the queen of Arendelle departs. Leaving Honeymaren alone with Elsa.

 _Thank goodness,_ Elsa thinks. Honeymaren has an odd look on her face, though, taking in the room around her once again, paying special attention to the windows. In fact, she looks out at the storm for long enough that Elsa asks, “What is it?”

Smirking slightly, Honeymaren asks, _“Did_ you have anything to do with this storm?”

Biting her lip, Elsa admits, “I only helped a little.” Honeymaren smirks a little more. A small hummed chuckle escapes her perfect lips.

She wants nothing more than to lay her hand alongside Honeymaren’s, interlace their fingers, and pull those lips closer to her own until Anna returns. Especially given Honeymaren’s hurried entrance earlier, once again showing off her natural character when she didn’t know Elsa was watching. Now seems as good a time as any to take advantage of privacy—from both Elsa’s immediate family and Honeymaren’s—but as things stand, she waits. Maybe cuddles?

“Why is there a tree inside?”

“Huh?” Elsa shakes off her reverie, follows Honeymaren’s gaze to the unadorned Christmas tree in the corner. “It’s a Christmas tree,” she says simply. Then she furrows her brow. “Although, usually, we only have one tree downstairs in the grand hall, much larger.”

“And why do you have _any_ tree inside?”

This time, Elsa hears the hint of humor under Honeymaren’s tone. “It’s one of those festivities. We bring a tree in to remind us of—um, spring. We decorate them with our families, and place gifts for each other under it. Then—”

“Why not do all of that outside, where the trees stay alive?”

Side-eyeing Honeymaren’s slightly cheeky tone, Elsa simply nods at the windows. She looks, but doesn’t look satisfied. During her pause, Elsa swings her legs onto the couch and leans back against the arm, pulling her shawl around tighter. At last, Honeymaren says, “That still doesn’t make any sense.” Then she eyes Elsa’s position, glances at a blanket over the back of the couch, pulls it down and over Elsa.

Chuckling a little and enjoying Honeymaren’s slight blush, Elsa says, “I suppose it doesn’t much, no. But you’ll see it all sooner or later.”

The doors creak open. “Back already?” Elsa asks before she looks.

“No, it’s me,” Kristoff announces. Still in his own pajamas, he nonetheless carries a tray with two coffees.

“Kristoff,” Honeymaren says simply, nodding her head in greeting given his full hands.

“Good to see ya, Honeymaren.”

“What’s this?” she asks as he places the tray on a low table nearby.

As he places the mugs on the table, he explains, “Everybody in the castle’s off, so Anna got me and Olaf up to help ‘commandeer’ the kitchen.”

Elsa chuckles nervously. “Can Anna cook?” That seems like something she would know if Anna did cook.

A faraway look crosses Kristoff’s face, tucking the tray under his arm. “I don’t know.” He shrugs, says, “And I’m not allowed to cook anymore. But I think Olaf knows how to.”

“How does Olaf know how to cook?” Elsa asks quieter, a little concerned.

“Uaaahh I don’t know that either. But we made coffee first, so Anna sent me up to bring you two while Olaf braves the storm to get Sven.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Honeymaren asks, looking between Kristoff and Elsa for guidance. “He just seems… small.”

“Why not send me?” Elsa asks.

“Look,” Kristoff groans. “I only have half a cup of coffee in me, and Anna’s got things under control. Seeing as its Elsa’s birthday and all, she wanted to do a couple nice things since the other plans have to wait.”

“C-can I help?” Honeymaren asks. Elsa notices the slightest stutter as Honeymaren stands up from the couch, glancing Elsa’s way several times in a short second. “Do something? I can definitely cook.”

“No-no-no!” Kristoff insists, all but shoving Honeymaren back to her seat on the couch. “You’re… uh…”

 _Don’t fuck this up, Kristoff,_ Elsa prays.

“Our guest! Just relax, we got this!” With that, Kristoff scampers out of the room.

At first, Elsa smiles at his quick exit, eager for more private time with Honeymaren. But the woman in question looks dejected and anxious again, decidedly a step back. Her smile drops as she takes in Honeymaren’s body language: tense and stiff, yet slouched. “Hey,” she starts, poking Honeymaren’s leg lightly with her toe. She glances Elsa’s way. “What’s wrong?”

Honeymaren bites her lip, looks startled by the question.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Elsa adds. She sits up, gently lays her hand on Honeymaren’s shoulder.

“It’s nothing.”

Elsa rubs her shoulder. “It’s all right if you are not fine.”

To that, Honeymaren actually smiles, shakes her head. “Okay. I’m… feeling out of my depth here.”

“How so?”

“I…” She pauses, but then she swings around so she faces Elsa, lets her knee rest on the cushions so she doesn’t hide from Elsa at all. Sighing, Honeymaren admits softly, “I don’t like _not_ knowing what I’m doing. But lately, that’s how I feel a lot of the time. Now, I-I want to contribute here, I want to participate in this solstice-y stuff your family does or at least help cook if no one else can, but… Maybe I don’t know how to do that either and…” Honeymaren shakes her hand, looks as though she’s about to swing herself off the couch entirely. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Elsa says simply. She sits up, notably closer to Honeymaren, startling her into stillness. Licking her lips, she says, “Truth be told, I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time.”

“Really?” Honeymaren asks.

Humming in the negative, Elsa offers a small smile. Then, to ease the tension still across Honeymaren’s shoulders, she adds, “Ask Anna, she’ll tell you.”

“Heh,” Honeymaren chuckles.

“She would also tell you,” continues Elsa, letting her hand trail down Honeymaren’s shoulder. “That you are very competent at many things, and, like myself, that you should take a break more often.”

Pulling a face, Honeymaren gives her a dubious look. “Would Anna tell me that or—”

“Fine, I’m telling you that,” Elsa admits through a grin. Careful not to linger too long, she trails her hand down to Honeymaren’s and rests her palm against it, feels Honeymaren’s hand twitch under her own. “I enjoy your company. Why else would I have invited you here?”

Honeymaren doesn’t answer, instead choosing to watch their hands once again in silence. But she does smile, little by little. The tension in her body eases, and Elsa smiles along with her. She reaches for a mug of coffee and drinks deeply. Following suit, Honeymaren takes hold of the other mug and sips, hums with pleasure. Softly, she says, “Okay.”

The drink is dark and bitter on Honeymaren’s tongue, and she smacks her lips a little after each sip. She likes it though, intrigued by its smoothness, unlike the medicinal teas and birchsap brews she grew up around. Checking to see Elsa’s hand still resting upon her own, Honeymaren bites her lip and turns her hand over. Palm to palm, Elsa’s long fingers swiftly, lightly interlace with her own. All the strange, previously nameless feelings swell in her chest. For a moment, she worries that they’ll overwhelm her. Much to her surprise those feelings do so, but the only repercussion is a broad smile and a desperate need to both look at Elsa and not look at Elsa at once.

Ryder would be proud. _No wait,_ _he wants me to talk about my feelings,_ she recalls. But how does she do that when she still doesn’t really know what she feels? Her brother certainly seems to know, but does he really?

Silence lingers over the two women, an opportunity to speak. Honeymaren doesn’t think she’s ready for Elsa to know yet. “Why did you help the storm?”

“Only a little!” Elsa insists, her grip tightening on Honeymaren’s hand. Which she likes, judging by the increasing effort it takes to keep a ludicrously large grin off her face.

“What would we be doing if not for the storm?” Honeymaren asks. “And what do you believe we will do instead due to it?”

“For starters, we would have rung the yule bell, which most of the kingdom comes to see. Even those who don’t celebrate Christmas in a religious sense.” Elsa says, letting go of Honeymaren’s hand to hold her mug between both hands.

“Must be some bell,” Honeymaren comments.

“Then I suspect Anna would leads us off on a tour of the town,” she sighs. “And I would receive far more attention than I prefer.”

“How… much do you prefer?”

For some reason, Elsa feels warm. Something in Honeymaren’s lower tone, maybe warms her heart. Or perhaps it’s the simple opportunity to say what she wants instead of working with another’s agenda. In either case, she demurely sips her coffee before answering. “I prefer to be with family, somewhere safe and warm, enjoying simple pleasures.”

Not that a castle is a simple pleasure, she reminds herself, but the castle itself is a compromise. Ideally, Elsa would have her family visit Northuldra, though she concedes expecting them to travel during this time of year would prove impractical. And irresponsible given Anna’s duties.

Humming in agreement, Honeymaren smiles. “I can see that.” Looking out the window again, she adds, “If I was back home, and say I didn’t have reindeer duty, this would be a good day to stay in the goahti and play games with Ryder.”

“That sounds lovely,” Elsa agrees. In spite of her better judgment, Elsa asks impulsively, “Do you… like to cuddle?” _Why are you asking that, what’s wrong with you?!_ she thinks even as the words come out of her mouth. Indeed, Honeymaren looks taken aback. Elsa knows then and there that she doesn’t remember scooting closer and closer to Elsa while she slept in her bed last night. _Dammit dammit dammit!_

But Elsa hides her sudden surprise when Honeymaren’s lips curl so slightly at the edges, glancing away shyly again… “Sure, I do.”

Before she can say anything more, Elsa flips up a corner of the blanket, inviting Honeymaren in between the back of the couch and herself. She bites her lip, catches Honeymaren doing the same. At first, Honeymaren looks away, but her eyes still smile. Hesitantly, she crawls into the spot, let’s her body flop down beside Elsa, and nestles in, tucks her nose against Elsa’s shoulder.

Everything inside Elsa explodes like fireworks. Then Honeymaren looks up into her eyes and says, “Don’t tell anybody back home?”

“What?” she whispers.

Softer still, Honeymaren says, “That I snuggle.”

She shakes her head adamantly. “Our secret.” More than anything, Elsa wants to kiss her forehead, but still, she waits.

Although both Elsa and Honeymaren enjoy cuddling, they don’t linger long. Anna gave them one thing to do, and Elsa will see it done. They leave the library, and Elsa brings Honeymaren to her old bedroom, where her pack is, then returns to her own guestroom where they both slept _(!!!!!!)_ to clean up and change her clothes. Once she returns, she finds the whole family there, ready with breakfast and birthday greetings.

Breakfast turns out to be more coffee and sandwiches, because Anna. It also turns out to be more than enough for everyone to have their fill, enabling the family to stay together in the library as long as possible.

“Now are you sure I can’t bring your birthday presents up?” Anna asks her sister, sitting between Elsa and Kristoff on the couch while Honeymaren watches from one of the plush chairs.

“It isn’t any trouble,” Kristoff adds.

“It’s fine, really,” Elsa assures them, turning her attention to Olaf as he abruptly jumps off his chair.

“Oh oh!” he says, jumping from one snowy stump to another.

“What is it, Olaf?”

“I have an idea, be right back!” he says.

“If it involves going outside, we’re not doing that again!” Anna calls after him, shaking her head.

“Or presents!” Elsa adds.

“It’s not!” Olaf calls as he rounds the corner, out of the library.

“Seriously though,” Anna says, turning on her sister once again. “You were born during Christmas season, how do you _not_ want presents today? You love presents!”

“I love _giving_ presents,” Elsa corrects.

“Whatever, moving on, shall we?”

“Any news from your royal tribulations?” Elsa asks.

As Anna enthusiastically shoots the shit—diving into a set of terminology Honeymaren can find neither intelligible or interesting—Kristoff leans against the arm of the couch towards her. “Wanna play a game?”

“Uhh…” Honeymaren utters hesitantly. “What kind of game?” The indoor game of choice back home is _tablut,_ and she plays it well, but most games she’s familiar with take place outside.

“A card game,” Kristoff says. “Euchre!”

“A… card game?”

“If you play, we’ll have four players when Olaf comes back.”

“Who’s the fourth of you, me, and Olaf?” Beside the other side of the couch, Sven bellows. Even though he’s a reindeer, Honeymaren could swear he smiles at her. She, on the other hand, deadpans in Kristoff’s direction. “You expect me to believe a reindeer can play this game?”

Snickering alerts her that the sisters on the couch are eavesdropping.

‘Sven’ speaks up in his own defense, via Kristoff: “I’ll have you know I play lots of games!”

On one hand, she wishes Ryder were here for this. On the other, Honeymaren absolutely never wants Ryder around for this. Exhaling long and slow through her nose, trying to keep a judgeless face, she turns her attention to Kristoff. “What games?”

A snort brings her eyes back to Sven, now standing up. “Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you,” he ‘says.’

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“I can play charades and gin rummy and Karnöffel!”

“I’m sorry, kerfuffle?”

As the sisters’ giggles grow in volume, Olaf bursts back into the room, carrying a large box. “I’m back!”

 _Because everything here is square for some reason,_ Honeymaren thinks. It had never occurred to her that whole peoples could have a favorite shape. Perhaps her people did, too, and she’d never noticed.

“What have you got there, Olaf?” Elsa asks, watching the little snowman drop his box on the low table, among the mugs of coffee and stacked breakfast plates. The motion blows Kristoff’s pile of ‘cards’ off the table with as much efficiency as Gale would, and Honeymaren contains a giggle at his expense.

“I bring you…” He begins, pausing dramatically. As he lifts the lid off the box, he announces, “Ornaments!” Everyone leans in to get a better look, none more than Honeymaren.

“Oh, Olaf!” Anna says, smiling brightly and pressing a hand to her heart. She pulls him into a soft side hug. “What an excellent idea! Let’s decorate the tree!”

“Yeah, since we’re all together!” Olaf says. To Elsa, he says, “Our little tree is naked, but I understand it does _not_ find dressing restricting.”

Furrowing her brow slightly, Elsa asks Anna, “Little tree?”

“He means this one here,” Anna says, pointing toward the evergreen in a corner of the room.

“We wanted to include you in decorating a tree,” Kristoff adds.

Once Honeymaren’s eyes leave the tree and look to Elsa for her reaction, dark blue eyes fixed on herself surprise her. Elsa’s smile surprises her, too, reminding her of their short cuddle session earlier. Softly, Elsa says, “We can all decorate it, together.”

Why that makes Honeymaren’s spine tingle, she doesn’t know. But the next thing she knows, Anna nudges Elsa—they communicate in silence with indecipherable facial expressions—while Kristoff gives her a questioning look and Olaf looks like he might start glowing. As she reaches into the box for something and walk round the table to Honeymaren’s side, Honeymaren mumbles, “Uh, Els? Wha…?”

“Come with me.”

Obediently, Honeymaren rises to her feet and lets Elsa lead her over to the tree. “Let’s put the first ornament on the tree,” Elsa breathes, eyes on Honeymaren. She opens her clasped hands, revealing a crystal snowflake with string fixed to one point. Curious yet hesitant, Honeymaren alights her fingers on the object.

Behind her, she hears Olaf ‘ooo’-ing and ‘aah’-ing, but also Kristoff whispering to Anna, “Isn’t that _your_ thing with Elsa?”

The split-second before Anna responds, it hurts. _I’m taking this from Anna? Just because I’m a guest?_ Honeymaren wonders.

But immediately Anna whispers back, “Oh hush, I’ll live without it for a year!” She coos, “Look at them!”

Reflexively, Honeymaren’s gaze darts to Elsa as they both face the tree. Her eyes don’t falter. The memory of chasing after Elsa yesterday, deciding to abstain from the initiating solstice ritual to help her friend, flashes through Honeymaren. And she thinks it must for Elsa, too, because she softly says to her, “I’m glad I get to share this with you. I just wish I could have done the same _for_ you.”

“It’d be nice to share the solstice with you, but there’s always next year.” Elsa takes Honeymaren’s hand so they lift the snowflake ornament together and place it on an evergreen branch. Enjoying the touch, Honeymaren adds, “And this is nice, too.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Okay, our turn!” Olaf shrieks happily, dashing forward with armfuls of other ornaments. Laughing at his enthusiasm, Kristoff and Anna join in decorating the tree as well.

Elsa watches her sister approach with care. Even if it was at Anna’s urging that she place the first ornament—the first Christmas gift Anna gave Elsa truly in person, the first ornament to go on every subsequent tree, placed by their two hands together—Elsa wants to be sure that all is well between them. (Okay, one of the first Christmas gifts, there were others. Still, Elsa worries a moment.) Kristoff also seems to watch Anna, but the young queen doesn’t seem to mind at all. If anything, she cares deeply, throwing her arms around Elsa’s shoulders and holding her tightly. They sway slightly in their hug, and Anna whispers, “I’m so proud of you!”

“You too, sis,” Elsa returns. Her eyes open to see Olaf tugging on bottom of Honeymaren’s tunic—the skirt overtop her pants—urging her to kneel down.

“What can I do for you Olaf?”

“Lift me!” He raises his arms enthusiastically, bouncing on his little legs, four or five ornaments in each hand.

A playful smirk—one Elsa has seen Honeymaren wear from afar, but almost never in her company since their first time sharing a campfire—lights up Honeymaren’s face. “What do you mean?” Honeymaren says, already squatting and positioning herself to pick the snowman up. With a grunt, he’s in her arms, and she stands. As she maneuvers him up onto her shoulder, she continues, “Can’t you fly like Elsa?”

He gasps, mouth wide as he turns to Elsa, forgetting his ornaments for the moment. “Elsa! _You can fly now?!”_ he gasps, stars in his eyes. Honeymaren chuckles, and her nose crinkles. Elsa momentarily forgets the question, instead enjoying the transcendence of Honeymaren’s face.

“I absolutely cannot,” she says flatly, crossing her arms as Sven, Kristoff, and Anna turn to her with genuine curiosity.

“Like, but I would not put it past you,” Anna says.

Kristoff too says, “Me neither.”

“I don’t!”

“Not true,” Honeymaren says, surprising Elsa with her seriousness. But she in turn keeps her eyes on Olaf’s gleeful face. “Just last week, I was minding my own business in the forest with the reindeer,” she explains, waving her spare hand casually while holding fast to Olaf with the other. “When out of nowhere, I turn to see Elsa flying through the air toward me. Knocked me right off my reindeer.”

“Oh!” Anna says, smiling. “You’re being metaphorical.”

“No, I’m being literal.”

Elsa squirms guiltily, mutters, “Yeah, that happened.”

Nonplussed, Sven ‘asks’ the important question, “Why?”

“I wasn’t trying to!” Elsa snaps at Sven. Catching herself, she looks around at the others and adds, “And I don’t fly!”

“Wait, can’t or won’t?”

“Anna!”

Olaf chimes in, “Elsa, it’s a relevant question. If you have moral qualms with the prospect of human flight, your family deserves to know.” On one hand, Elsa feels pure delight at how Honeymaren’s nose crinkles again, how she and Anna laugh simultaneously, how Olaf nonchalantly starts humming, places ornaments on the tree as if they were discussing the weather. On the other hand… Truth be told, her mild annoyance doesn’t qualify as a counterpoint.

In time, the tree is decorated. Olaf convinces Anna and Elsa to sing to him, a song Honeymaren learns from Kristoff is something they sing to him every Christmas since a certain escapade involving an exploding sled full of ‘traditions.’ Truth be told, Honeymaren knows Kristoff must mean this literally, yet she cannot fathom what ‘an explosion’ of any sort might look like. Shortly thereafter, Kristoff insists on teaching Honeymaren how to play his card game, Euchre, so Olaff and Anna leave to make hot cocoa for everyone. They even return with a bowl for Sven.

(On that point, Honeymaren decides not to object. If this family has a living snowman in it, Kristoff can feed his reindeer that he speaks for whatever he wants. As long as he doesn’t give Ryder any more ideas than her brother already has.)

Soon enough, Kristoff’s enthusiasm for the game has attracted everyone’s attention, not just Honeymaren’s. He deals for all six of them and assigns teams: He and Sven (for obvious reasons), Anna and Elsa, and Honeymaren and Olaf. At first, Honeymaren believes he means to place her with the… child (?) of the family since she’s new to the game. Soon enough, she realizes that Olaf is the most expert of anyone. If anything, he’s carrying her along, winning more ‘tricks’ than any other team combined.

After a third round of Olaf and Honeymaren winning every single trick, Elsa puts her hand of cards down on the table. Placing a hand on Honeymaren’s shoulder, she stands, announcing, “I’ll be right back, and I’ll bring fresh cocoa.”

“What?!” Anna shouts. “Absolutely not! Come back her birthday queen!”

Elsa merely lifts her brow and blinks pointedly at her sister.

“Oh, right, okay! See you soon!”

“We should play a new game while we wait!” Olaf says as Elsa excuses herself.

“Like what?” Kristoff asks, leans his head down against Anna’s. Meanwhile, Honeymaren pets Sven’s nose.

“Hmm… Truth or dare!” Olaf decides.

Immediately, Kristoff’s eyes widen, darting to Honeymaren nervously. “Not a good idea Olaf!”

“Actually,” Anna counters. “That’s an excellent idea.”

From down the hall, Elsa’s voice carries into the room as clearly as the clack of her retreating heels. “Don’t even think about it, Anna!”

Despite not knowing what she’s just been spared, Honeymaren feels a wave of relief. Until, minutes later, Elsa arrives in the doorway. “Kristoff?” she says. “Were you preparing stew in the kitchen by any chance?”

“Yeah, I had it simmering,” he replies. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes. I believe it’s done.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Olaf says. He waddles toward the door, saying, “You’re going to need a professional opinion, trust me.”

“I’ll come see,” he says, standing. As he walks after Elsa, he turns back to Anna and says, “Don’t you dare look at my cards.”

“Fiiiiiiine!”

_Oh fuck, the reindeer can’t protect me!_ Honeymaren realizes. To her surprise, however, Anna slumps back against the couch cushions once they’re out of earshot. She looks serene.

“Tired?” Honeymaren asks.

Anna nods, smiling nonetheless. “Always.”

“I won’t tell anyone if you take a nap,” she offers.

Initially a soft chuckle responds. Honeymaren thinks for a moment that she’s in the clear, that Anna won’t put her on the spot, until she says, “I know it’s intimidating.”

“Wha… What is?” she asks. Anna could be referring to any number of things—her, as queen to a nation whose soldiers opposed her people, to a nation that unwittingly trapped her people and those soldiers; being in a strange place, a strange home, drinking strange drinks and eating strange food; the talking, living snowman and the living, ‘talking’ reindeer; and—

“Elsa.”

There’s nothing Honeymaren can say to that. Anna opens her eyes, studies Honeymaren’s face, albeit with gentle eyes.

“You already know that we did and didn’t grow up together. The first time we _really_ interacted as sisters, as adults, I was so nervous.”

“Really?” Honeymaren asks. She remembers coming upon the sisters among the goahtis, after Elsa stopped the fire that threatened those homes. Remembers how Anna confronted her, raw: _“You don’t want me to follow you into fire? Then don’t RUN into fire!”_ It’s hard to imagine Anna intimidated by anything, let alone her sister. She remembers walking alongside her when the mist fell, when they all believed Elsa had died. Mourning, seeming as heavy as an earth giant, Anna’s steps were nonetheless resolute. Honeymaren hadn’t been able to think of any comfort to offer at the time, not to someone who seemed to know the full measure of the loss as Anna did.

“Really really,” Anna replies, letting her head loll sideways.

It’s a silly pose, but Honeymaren can still see the heaviness in her. In a way. The gentleness comes from her trials, Honeymaren realizes. She supposes that’s where Elsa’s comes from, too. And she waits, remains silent.

Sighing, Anna continues, “I was incredibly intimidated by her. To be honest, I still am sometimes. It takes something, like, really… superhuman to go through what she went through and still want to connect with people, for her to even try.”

“You admire her.”

“Yes and no,” Anna says. “If our places were switched? I’d be done, just ball on the floor, goodbye world, murder me with chocolate.” They both chuckle. Not tense, but still heavy. “I’m proud of her.”

“I think she’s proud of you,” Honeymaren offers, unable to look past the fact that Anna went through real struggles growing up.

“I know.” The queen shrugs it off. Somehow, it’s reassuring. Something about the gesture makes Honeymaren less anxious about her, about figuring out her own feelings for her sister. Whatever Honeymaren feels, Anna will be okay.

Then, they both look toward the doorway. Heels tap against the floor, and the sounds of Olaf and Kristoff’s voices echo down the hallway. Again, Honeymaren and Anna catch each other’s eyes. “Just know it’s not like Elsa’s courted before,” Anna says, slightly rolling her eyes while grinning reassuringly at her.

_Oh,_ Honeymaren thinks. Unsure as to why, she stands when Elsa and the boys enter the room. She doesn’t know why she’s surprised to learn this.

“Dinner is served!” Kristoff announces, carrying an extra-large tray of steaming bowls.

“And dessert!” Olaf adds, lifting a tray of cookies and more coca.

Clearing her throat, Elsa looks at her tray and quietly joins by saying, “And glogg, too.”

“Oooooo!” Anna keens, launching to her feet with excitement. “I call a glogg!” Elsa eyes her sister with no small amount of suspicion as she approaches. She took a calculated risk by leaving her alone with Honeymaren for this long, after all. “What?” Anna says, calling her out on her suspicions. “I behaved! Just ask Honeymaren!”

Her glare lingers on Anna a second more, but when she looks past her to Honeymaren, she indeed sees a woman at peace. As food and beverage are divvied out, Elsa nonetheless whispers to her, “Anna didn’t say anything rude to you right? Nothing you’d give Ryder a hard time for if he said it?”

She pauses, but a light seems to glow behind those shy brown eyes. “I could tell you,” Honeymaren breathes in response. “But then Anna would have to kill me.” For a millisecond, Elsa takes her seriously. After all, Honeymaren tends to be too nervous to be playful. But she _is_ being playful, Elsa realizes. Delightful.

“Now, you promise there isn’t any lichen or rocks in this stew?” Anna asks Olaf as they return to the couch and chairs, glancing Kristoff’s way with suspicion.

“Hey, one time! One Christmas and I learned!”

“Honestly, I don’t know how the chef hasn’t banned him from the kitchen,” Olaf says derisively.

“It’s not that bad!”

Elsa stands shoulder to shoulder beside Honeymaren, spots her confused, concern look. She whispers, “He was raised by trolls.”

“Ooohhh!” Honeymaren says. “So much makes sense now.”

“What?” Anna, Kristoff, and Olaf ask in unison.

“Nothing,” Honeymaren assures them.

While they eat, the sun long since set past the horizon, the snow storm outside at last ebbs. Honeymaren finds herself humming, thinking of home and zoning out of the conversation around her. When she finishes her bowl, warmed by both stew and mulled wine, she sighs happily, leaning back against her chair. In a place so different from home, Honeymaren revels in the fact that she can feel so at home nonetheless. After a short moment’s silence, she hears a voice ask, “What song was that?”

Returning to the present, Honeymaren glances around, finds that everyone else is watching her. “Song?”

“That you were humming,” Anna says.

“It was beautiful!” Olaf coos.

“I…” She licks her lips, looks to Elsa, but apparently she didn’t recognize the tune either. “It wasn’t a song,” Honeymaren says at last. “It’s a joik. You’ve heard it before.”

Kristoff frowns, trying to remember. “We have?”

Elsa gasps. “We have!” Turning to the others, she explains, “When we first visited the forest, when we learned about out mother!”

“Mhmm,” Honeymaren hums, nodding. “That wasn’t a song, it was a joik.”

“Will you sing it for us?” Anna asks.

Smiling despite herself, Honeymaren says, “No, but I will _joik_ for you.” With all eyes on her, she turns her gaze toward the windows once again. This particular joik is almost always performed with others, and self-consciousness rises in her. Still, she joiks her part, imagining the harmonies and beats as they would be among her people, the people of the Sun. About halfway through, she notices another, real voice. Whipping her head back round, she discovers Elsa, joiking along, harmonizing as best she can.

At the end of the night, Elsa walks Honeymaren back to her room—the original room Honeymaren was placed in anyway. Not wanting to part just yet, Honeymaren asks, “Did you enjoy your birthday?”

She nods, blue eyes fixed on her pale hands, clasped together demurely in front of her. “I did.”

“I, um, I did bring a gift,” Honeymaren mumbles, unsure of herself again. Less so now, but it’s still Elsa standing next to her. It’s still big emotions Honeymaren feels that she hasn’t quite named yet. “It can wait until tomorrow if you rather.”

“A gift?” Elsa asks, stiffening. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” Honeymaren says quickly. They stare into each other’s eyes for a second, then part. Leaning away from each other. “So um… I guess in the morning—”

“Do you want to stay in my room again tonight?” Honeymaren looks up so fast, Elsa flinches with surprise. But she doesn’t back down. “Seeing as neither of us likes to sleep… alone?”

Honeymaren bites her lip. Tingling heat radiates through her body again, reminding her of Bruni’s flames. Elsa smiles at her with sleepy, hooded eyes, and before she knows what she’s saying, Honeymaren replies, “I’d like that.”

Without further ado, she enters the bedroom, grabs her pack, and follows Elsa to her room. They both change into sleepwear without looking at each other. Both of them climb onto the bed and under the covers. Mustering up all her patience and courage, Elsa props herself up on her elbow, facing Honeymaren, and slowly, obviously, leans forward. Until, pausing an extra few seconds once she’s less than a breath away, she presses her lips to Honeymaren’s brow.

A soft, low hum voices Honeymaren’s assent. After a moment more, Elsa lays her head down fully and catches Honeymaren smiling broadly, softly, her hand only half-attempting to hide her face. She presses her forehead against Elsa’s, and thus, they fall asleep.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fully blame living alone during COVID for this


	5. Elsa’s Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is weird and long but I like it!
> 
> The opening bit is inspired by this hilarious post by @reverseinversedisperse: https://reverseinversedisperse.tumblr.com/post/189411571042/reverseinversedisperse-please-tell-me-ppl-have

\---

**Chapter 5: Elsa’s Birthday**

Nothing happens beyond the one little kiss. Yet, Elsa sleeps deeply and peacefully with Honeymaren at her side, possibly a first within the castle walls.

When she awakes, Elsa sees the bedroom door through the early light of dawn, streaming past half-drawn curtains. She leans her head and chest up slightly, sees one large lump under the covers. Something stirs against her back, and she sleepily looks over her shoulder to find Honeymaren snuggled up close to her again, arms tucked between Elsa’s back and her own chest.

 _Wow_ , Elsa thinks through the lingering haze of sleep. Honeymaren is a sight to see in the morning, what with her long dark hair fanning out across the bedsheets and her face soft, lips barely parted. The change in Elsa’s position only slightly distances their two bodies, and still Honeymaren nudges closer in her sleep. So Elsa flips over, drapes her arm over Honeymaren’s waist, settles back into the pillows.

Serene.

 _Yes, please!_ she thinks, nuzzling in and sighing happily.

Distantly, Honeymaren senses warmth as she dreams. Her mind weaves together scenes and memories. It’s summer, and she’s in her goahti. Ryder’s cooking something, joking about something, and the reindeer Honeymaren helped nurse when she was a teenager is a calf again. It nuzzles against her, attracting ‘ooo’s and ‘ahh’s from everyone in the goahti—a sudden development in itself. Her parents are there, and so is Elsa and all her closest friends. Everyone talks happily, although Honeymaren can’t actually discern the words. Shortly thereafter, the party disperses save for Elsa and herself. Although they’re inside, the goahti looks like the outside, that campfire where they spoke for the first time, a reindeer calf between them. Abruptly, Ryder bursts into their goahti and shouts with Anna’s voice:

“HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, ELSA!”

Elsa flinches awake, still facing away from the door and, presumably, her chortling sister. Her body jerks and she groans, “Anna?”

Then, before anyone fully comprehends what’s happening, Honeymaren sits all the way up in bed, squints through her sleepy daze, and grumbles, “The fuck, Ryder?”

“OH MY GOODNESS! OH NO HOHOHA!”

With that, Anna runs out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. And in that split second, Elsa’s brain catches up to her jaw, which is wide open. She hears a whimper, turns to see Honeymaren’s face slowly turn to abject horror as reality sets in. Her hands lift to her face.

After a moment of not seeing her breathe, Elsa asks, “Honeymaren?”

Mortified brown eyes dart to Elsa. From under her hands, she softly speaks a single word. “Shit.”

“ANNA!” It takes every ounce of willpower for Elsa to keep her powers clamped down tight as she leaps from the bed in a fury. The door slams open as she runs down the hall, prioritizing rooms to check as she goes. Bedroom? Empty. Library? Nope. Elsa hears something fall—the hall to the stairs. She rushes toward the sound, wishing she had Nokk nearby for this emergency.

As she takes a corner to the landing, she spots none other than the dressed but slightly disheveled Anna, righting a knocked-over bust of who-the-fuck-cares. The auburn-haired woman whips around the face Elsa rushing at her.

“Anna, I will—!”

“Yikes! Runrunrun!” Anna’s many years of entertaining herself through the castle pays off as she expertly slides down the banister, cape and gown etc. Elsa’s prey bolts across the great hall. She huffs angrily, then breaks her own rule by creating a slide of ice down the stairs. “Cheating, you’re cheating!” Anna shouts, eyes wide at the sight.

She gives chase, dissolving the slide with a simple wave of her hand. Through grinding teeth, Elsa growls, “I will destroy you!”

Ahead of her, Anna takes a turn—she’s headed downstairs, toward the kitchen—and shouts, “KRISTOFF!”

Distantly, she can hear him answer, “Bed in breakfast is almost done, Chef and I got this!”

“RUN, KRISTOFF!”

Taking the narrow stone stairs spiraling beneath her two at a time, Elsa roars, “KRISTOFF, STOP ANNA, THAT IS AN ORDER!”

“KRISTOFF I’M QUEEN, DON’T DO IT!”

At the bottom of the stairs, Elsa swivels through the kitchen doorway quickly, pauses when she sees her sister at the far side by another set of doors. For a moment, it looks like Anna’s done running.

Meanwhile, Kristoff and Chef look back and forth between the sisters, simultaneously uttering, “Uhhhhhhhhhhh—” and turning to each other for guidance… “uhhhhhhh…”

“Shit!” Anna swears to herself and runs again.

Rolling her eyes, Elsa follows, grumbling, “This is ridiculous!”

Behind her, Kristoff excuses himself, plodding after her. Anna leads them across the first basement of the castle, then back up another set of stairs to the ground floor.

“Hey everybody!” Olaf greets as they all run past, Sven behind him. “I got Sven for the breakfast in bed thing, let’s wake up Honeymaren and we’ll surprise Elsa together—wait, what am I seeing here?”

Back in the great hall, Elsa and Anna both huff and puff, hardly running at this point. “Geez, this castle’s big,” Anna groans.

“Anna!” Elsa wheezes. “What… the hell?”

“Hey,” she groans back, vaguely pointing toward Elsa while Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf catch up at last. “If I… had known—woo, air!—I wouldn’t have… come in…”

“Known what?” Olaf asks cheerfully.

The sisters freeze. Kristoff gives Anna a confused look. All she does is lift her brow. In an instant, he turns red. “Oh! Oh no! Hey, Olaf, let’s uh, go back to the kitchen—”

“Let me guess, you put lichen in the eggs?” Olaf sighs, already turning around and shaking his head.

“One time! I did that one time!”

“It only takes one time.”

Continuing her thought, Anna says, “Leave a… note or an icicle on the doorknob or… something!”

“Anna!”

“What?! Kristoff and I did when you were still living here!”

Groaning, a hand at her temple, Elsa curtly retorts, “I still knocked! No matter the… state of the door!”

“Knocking is fraught for some of us!” Anna approaches her, still gasping for air a bit, gesturing enthusiastically as she speaks. “Birthdays not! You did… not knock on… birthday!”

Scoffing, Elsa replies, “One birthday, and I learned my lesson before the next.” Glaring at her nonetheless, Elsa says darkly, “Nothing happened. You understand me?”

In rebuttal to Elsa’s claim, Anna says nothing initially. She simply deadpans. “Tuh, Elsa, I have eyes. I have a fiancé. This is not news.”

“No, nothing happened,” Elsa repeats, trying to get her meaning across. “Seriously.”

“Elsa it’s not a big deal! We’re all adults! If I knew you two were further along in things—”

“Nononono!”

“—which by the way, I can believe that of Honeymaren—I would have left you both to your room all day!” Anna finishes with a shrug and a grin.

“No! There was and-and _is_ no reason for any of that!” Elsa yelps, desperate. If Anna gets the wrong idea, she might scare Honeymaren off. “And I _need you_ to understand that literally _nothing_ happened, that nothing is _happening_ , okay?!”

Above their heads, there comes a small, strained sound. A voice. From the landing above their heads. The landing that is part of the same great hall they are in. At the top of the stairs where dramatic entrances may be made.

And, all around them, several gasps.

At first, the sisters’ gazes stay fixed on each other, neither one daring to breathe. They simultaneously take in their surroundings. Servants are setting up for Arendelle’s Christmas feast. Yet none of the servants have their eyes on the arguing royal sisters.

Elsa dashes toward the stairs, eyes searching anxiously. Sure enough, Honeymaren stands at the top of the stairs—a hurriedly dressed _vision_. And she’s got that look in her eye, the look like when she saw Olaf for the very first time. Not far off of her more frequent look, the one that tells the whole village that Honeymaren will spend an entire day chopping wood or hunting or that one time she single-handedly built a sled to rival Kristoff’s. All to avoid… lately, Elsa.

Fearful, Elsa glances back at Anna—standing directly below Honeymaren—and by the time her blue eyes rise back up, Honeymaren is walking in the other direction. “Honeymaren, wait!”

Behind her, she hears Anna slap her own forehead. “Crud.”

“Wait, Honeymaren, please!”

Too quietly to be heard by anyone but herself, Honeymaren mumbles, “That’s okay, I think I’ll just leave and be mortified for the rest of my life.” Was it really ‘nothing?’ She thought it was… something.

By the time thoughts are spiraling in Honeymaren’s mind, Elsa catches her by her shoulders, stands before her and obstructs her path. ( _The Anna move,_ as Elsa likes to think of it.)

Although Honeymaren stops walking down the hall, she still cannot look at Elsa right now. If she does, the feeling that seems like it should make her cry will fill her up, and Honeymaren hates that feeling (all the more so since it then makes her feel guilty and broken for _not_ crying, no matter how big it is).

“Please, please, Honeymaren,” Elsa says, so close that her breath tickles Honeymaren’s nose. “Don’t go. I’m sorry. I’ll clear everything up with Anna.”

“And your whole staff,” Honeymaren mutters.

“My huh?”

Honeymaren glances up at Elsa when she says that, sees the blonde blinking rapidly and puzzling it out. She moves her hand as she thinks, creating a frosty outline of a walking staff much like Honeymaren’s own. Sucking on her teeth, Honeymaren says, “Not that kind of staff.”

“Oh!” Elsa tries a sheepish grin. “Right.” She focuses on Honeymaren. Although she knows something is wrong and can make some educated guesses, Elsa isn’t certain of the exact nature of Honeymaren’s distress. “I’ll fix everything, anything, please…”

Honeymaren bites her lip hard because the feeling is mixing in with her feelings for Elsa, which is stressful. And the worst part is that this is not a familiar kind of stress. She doesn’t know how to deal with it, what to do with her body.

“Please just tell me how,” Elsa says, tilting her head, trying to catch Honeymaren’s eye. Definitely fretting as Honeymaren crosses her arms over her chest, a shield.

_Say something,_ Honeymaren thinks, screwing her eyes shut and grimacing. Her whole body feels tight, scrunched up, holding tight to the feelings she hates. If only Ryder were here to listen, to tell her how—

_“You don’t have to come back with Elsa on your arm, just tell her how you feel.”_

His words ring in Honeymaren’s mind, stun her. She opens her eyes, surprised at the memory, and her shoulders relax a little.

“Honeymaren?” The hands on her shoulders edge inward, slightly lighter, slightly closer to Honeymaren’s neck. She feels one of Elsa’s fingers skim across her bare skin at her shirt’s neckline. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I… er… Look, I am not good at this,” Honeymaren says, deflating as she speaks.

“Okay,” Elsa responds softly, unsure of what’s happening but determined to see it through.

Sighing, she shrinks further, says, “If-if it’s ‘nothing’ happening, that’s fine. I’m gonna…” Honeymaren points in no particular direction before returning her arm to shielding her body. “… Get dressed.” She starts to walk away from Elsa, then stops, fisting her own hair. “Gah, fucking—! I suck at this!”

_I can see that,_ Elsa thinks, eyes wide and focused on Honeymaren’s distraught face. When Honeymaren glances her way, it’s all fire in her brown eyes—thrilling yet frightening, too.

“I suck at this, Elsa!” Honeymaren repeats emphatically. Her body propels her forward, moves outside the strict confines she keeps it within most of the time, overloads her discipline. “It was never helpful to-to have… to feel things, okay? Before you and Anna came along, there wasn’t…” She groans again. Wants to say things she buried so deep under the permafrost of her external self that, until this moment, Honeymaren didn’t even recognize their existence. No small task, she realizes simultaneously.

“There was no point. No time, I thought, for feelings.” Still, Honeymaren has the self-awareness to leave out: _Because I thought I’d die young in that cursed forest anyway._ “And now…”

Gay panic consumes Elsa. She has no idea what Honeymaren might say next. She hopes she can handle it, but what if she can’t?

“All I’m going to say,” Honeymaren husks, vulnerable but settled. “… is that I thought that yesterday, or last night, or whatever… I thought it was _something,_ not nothing!”

The mental version of the sensation right after a sneeze hits Elsa. “Wait. What?”

“I mean,” Honeymaren continues, crossing her arms protectively again. “To me, it had seemed like a something kind of day and a something kind of night. But you said ‘nothing happened,’ so did nothing happen for you? Or nothing of a certain _type?_ Was that kind of happening supposed to have happened, but didn’t, so the stuff that I thought was something is not something to you?”

Inhaling slowly and blinking fast, Elsa considers Honeymaren’s words, her body language. “So… you’re upset that I said that ‘nothing happened’ to Anna, not that she woke us up and saw us together… in bed?”

At this point, Honeymaren’s gaze is downcast because looking at Elsa is too embarrassing. “I don’t know! Yes? Both?! I haven’t done this before, Elsa, despite many, many guys my age that, I don’t know, tried. They should have tried Ryder instead, because I never fell for them like he did, and I thought…” She grumbles. “I don’t know what I thought. When the forest was cursed, I didn’t think about that stuff, this shit. There was too much… else… to deal with.”

Self-conscious is an unfamiliar feeling to Honeymaren. Or at least it has only become familiar over the couple months and change since Elsa burst into her life. This time, though, she can’t run off and chop wood. (Not until she finds Kristoff at least, who seems like someone who might know where one could chop wood.)

“I thought it was something, too.”

Honeymaren freezes and, simultaneously, blazes. She glances up—Elsa’s smiling, big and bright.

“Just not the specific something Anna imagined.”

“Er… Yeah, that…” Honeymaren breathes through grinding teeth, wearing a cross between a snarl and a wince. Wonders, _Should that bother me more?_ After Elsa chased Anna out of the room, Honeymaren stayed frozen on the bed for minutes, aghast at having called the queen of anywhere—let alone the Queen of Arendelle, sister to _Elsa_ —Ryder. Preceded by ‘the fuck.’ However, being caught sleeping in a bed with another woman and the subsequent implications… that doesn’t bother Honeymaren much, actually. But Elsa thought it would bother her. “Um… that…”

Someone taps Elsa’s shoulder. She jumps, shooting ice at the wall as she spins to see the ever-loyal Kai, the head of household in the castle.

“So sorry to disturb you, your majesty,” he says, disregarding the slip in her powers with practiced ease. “I’m here on the queen’s errand to remind you that your family and guest have a fully packed schedule today, beginning with ringing the yule bell in about two hours.”

“Certainly,” Elsa breathes, returning her gaze toward Honeymaren… ‘s back, her back. She’s already walking away, back to Elsa’s room. “Would you kindly send for the queen? With some urgency?”

“Yes, your majesty. To ah… where?”

“Here. The hallway, I suppose.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

As Kai’s footsteps retreat, Elsa wraps her head around the past span of several minutes. Yes, Honeymaren surely felt embarrassed at being caught in a compromising position this morning. And she would see to it that her sister would apologize for intruding, and then running every which way, thus exposing them both to more embarrassment. Squirming inside, Elsa admits to herself that she should apologize as well—chasing Anna all over the castle didn’t help keep things quiet.

But that’s not Honeymaren’s main cause of distress. She didn’t mention Anna’s intrusion, she brought up Elsa’s own words, that ‘nothing happened.’

“Woo! Stairmaster of a day,” Anna says, announcing her presence coming up behind Elsa. “Where’s Honeymaren?”

“Anna, the nothing that happened _was_ something—”

“Called it.”

“—shush—But _not_ the kind of something that you meant.”

“Wait what? Then what—”

“And all I want for my birthday,” Elsa determines, turning to her sister, “and all I want for Christmas is for Honeymaren to know that the something that is nothing is everything to me.”

“Elsa, sis, I love you. That makes no sense. Use your words?”

\---

Arendelle’s residents from near and far make this year’s Christmas feast the largest yet. Perhaps because Anna, in her extroverted wisdom, arranged festivities to take place a few days before Christmas itself. Thus, everyone gets to participate in both the royal dinner and any personal, familial traditions, no matter their religious leanings.

“Don’t you worry,” Anna says as she leans toward Elsa beside her at a table. “A few more years, it’ll be dinner _and_ a ball!”

“That’s nice,” Elsa comments, distracted. Honeymaren is two seats down and across from her, and Elsa cannot get her attention for the life of her.

“Why don’t you go over there?” Anna asks her, noticing Elsa’s focus.

“No no, we’ll have more time to talk later today,” Elsa says, trying (and failing) to focus on her plate.

“Not to burst your bubble, but you have a busy day ahead of you.”

“And she’ll be there. We’ll talk, it’ll be fine.”

“Okay!” Anna chimes, taking a hint to chill. “Just be wary of the mistletoe.”

“What do you mean?” Elsa asks haltingly.

“Oh, it’s _everywhere_ this year, all over the place. I thought it was Kristoff’s weird thing—”

“It was not my thing okay?” Kristoff groans from Anna’s other side.

Grinning as she teases her fiancé, Anna says, “He needed a good excuse to kiss the queen in public without breaking traditions of, I dunno, PDA propriety or something like that.”

“It wasn’t me!” Kristoff insists.

“But you’ll still kiss me under the mistletoe?” Anna asks, lightly running the pad of her thumb down Kristoff’s cheek just once.

“Every time,” he mutters, smiling affectionately at her.

“Not to interrupt,” Elsa interrupts, looking unimpressed. “Why should I be wary of mistletoe?”

Anna pauses before she takes another bite. “I suppose they could use it as an excuse to kiss Honeymaren, too.”

_“What?!”_ Elsa shudders, launching to her feet… attracting more attention from her table than she’d care to. Honeymaren included. She smiles sheepishly at everyone and sits back down slowly. A moment later, Chef arrives with a towering cake on a pushcart before him. Meanwhile, the chef’s team of cooks start distributing plates of risalamande and rosette cookies—traditional Christmas treats—to everyone in attendance. Delighted voices fill the room. Elsa gives her smug looking sister a small smirk. “Pleased with yourself?”

“Always!” Anna nods demurely, and when she looks up again, there’s a thrill in her eyes. “Oh! Elsa look!”

Turning, Elsa catches Anna’s object of attention: Honeymaren has pudding on her nose. Before she can get her attention, however, an ambassador offers Honeymaren her handkerchief. _Dammit._

\---

After the holiday feast, Elsa’s family—including Honeymaren— bundles up to follow Arendellians across the bridge from the castle to town. As they cross the courtyard, Honeymaren turns back and her jaw drops at the size of the castle. Draped in snow, it’s as majestic as an earth giant, and possibly bigger. The sheer blue ornamentation looks particularly familiar to her.

“You okay?”

“Um!” Honeymaren whirls around to face Elsa. Her stomach clenches immediately, still embarrassed by her vulnerable moment earlier. “Yes, thank you. It’s…”

“A lot?” Elsa suggests. If Honeymaren’s not mistaken, she hears a bitter thread in her voice.

“Yeah. Is that your handiwork?”

Glancing at the roof, Elsa nods. She’s about to say something else when Kristoff and Sven run up to them from the stables.

“Ready to go!” Sven ‘says.’

“Excellent!” Anna replies, hoisting Olaf up to Sven’s back. “Birthday tour begins now!”

The sisters laugh and run toward town in the snow. Sven and Kristoff jog after them, and Honeymaren realizes she’s supposed to keep up. She passes the boys with ease, but because of her delay, she catches up to Anna and Elsa at the same moment they stop running.

“First stop,” Anna begins when the front door to the building slams open.

“Your majesties!” an older woman squeals, delighted. She practically pulls the sisters into her shop, both of them grunting in surprise. Honeymaren does a doubletake, uncertain of how she should react. Is this a common occurrence for Arendelle? Are the sisters in any way threatened? Should she wait outside or enter behind them?

Biting her lip, Honeymaren opts to stand guard, at least until Kristoff catches up.

From what Elsa can tell, Anna is as perplexed as she is. The dressmaker is so excited, saying so much so fast, that Elsa’s brain can barely keep up. She hurries about, says something about double-checking Elsa’s measurements as she drags Elsa over to a set of mirrors. How she has so much energy, Elsa can barely guess. Speaking for herself, the enormity of the feast has her brain working at half-speed. Anna looks on, her expression adjusting from concern and confusion to teasing enjoyment. At last, she inserts herself, says, “It’s lovely to see you missed Elsa as much as I did…”

“Yes,” Elsa says, nodding and smiling as best she can. “I missed Arendelle, too.”

“Very much indeed,” Anna continues. “We do have so much of Arendelle to visit with _Elsa’s_ guest today. May I pick up the order I made?”

“Of course, your highness,” the dressmaker says with a smile. “And now I am satisfied that _my_ gift for Lady Elsa will fit perfectly, as well.” She rushes off through a doorway, leaving the sisters to stare at the empty space she left.

“Her gift?” Elsa asks.

Like a child caught sneaking cookies, Anna shrugs. “I dunno!”

Outside, Kristoff gives Honeymaren an odd look as he approaches. “Are they not done yet?”

“I guess not?” Honeymaren shrugs, glancing at the shop door.

“But aren’t we supposed to hurry through the tour,” Olaf asks from Sven’s back. “So Elsa can—mmph!” Sven grunts and snorts at Olaf, and Kristoff shakes his head quickly.

“Shh!”

Given she obviously is not meant to know any further information, Honeymaren doesn’t ask questions. She does give all three of them a look that Yelena would be proud of, though.

“Wait, so Anna and Elsa are inside?”

“Mhmm,” Honeymaren hums in the affirmative to Kristoff.

“Then why aren’t you?” Olaf asks, sharing a look of concern with Sven.

“Oh, I didn’t want to crowd them,” Honeymaren says, feeling her skin prickle with heat. Albeit the chill’s effect on her cheeks will hide it for now.

Crossing his arms, Kristoff asks, “Is that really why?”

Behind her, the door opens again.

Two dress boxes in her arms—one from Anna and one from the dressmaker herself—Elsa has a bad feeling about this ‘short’ tour of Arendelle. The dressmaker holds the door open for Anna and herself, and Elsa spots Honeymaren and Kristoff outside. She smiles at the sight, but she hears Anna gasp before rushing forward, in between Kristoff and Honeymaren. At the threshold, Elsa asks a question of Anna with her eyes, and she in turn answers by glancing above Elsa’s head multiple times. When Elsa looks up, she spots the mistletoe.

_Ah,_ she realizes. Kristoff smiles and kisses Anna, who saved them from any onlookers pressuring Honeymaren or him to kiss each other. But that doesn’t save Elsa.

“Happy birthday, your majesty!” the dressmaker cheers, giving Elsa a peck on her cheek.

_OH!_

“Uhhhh!” Anna draws out, looking as stunned as Elsa feels. She leans forward and hooks her arm through Elsa’s, pulling her forward. “Right, thanks so much, happy Christmas, see you later! Tell the kids I said hi!” Dragging Elsa away, Anna hisses under her breath, “Really, what got into her?”

Elsa throws her gaze over her shoulder: Kristoff and Sven are (rightfully) aghast, but trying to offer a more extended goodbye to the dressmaker. Olaf appears none the wiser, at least. But Honeymaren looks… confused? Put out? Curious?

“We’ll get back on track in no time,” Anna assures her, nudging her shoulder. “Just you wait. Let’s hurry to the cobbler’s shop, he has something to match the dress I got you.”

“Okay!” Elsa says, counting on her sister’s endless optimism to fight off her embarrassment.

However, the sisters swiftly discover a common theme to their series of visits to pick up Elsa’s birthday gifts. Instead of spending time with the whole family (Honeymaren included), they tend to be dragged in by shopkeepers, who long to catch up with Elsa, share about their lives, ask her about her life in the north, and update her on how well Anna is faring as queen. Trailing behind them, Kristoff and Honeymaren usher Olaf and Sven from place to place as a growing crowd of cheerful Arendellians gather to watch. And inevitably, a shopkeeper (and occasionally their whole family, kids included) has a kiss to share with Elsa due to mistletoe at their door. Luckily, she hasn’t seen Honeymaren get caught in a kiss, but she hasn’t even had the opportunity to explain what mistletoe _is_ to her.

The cobbler gives Elsa the boots Anna commissioned, as well as another pair of shoes to match the dressmaker’s gift. Trying to manage the situation, Anna rushes Elsa from the cobbler to the wood carver, gives Kristoff a running kiss under more mistletoe as he and the others catch up. There she receives a miniature wooden model of Arendelle, carved with incredible detail (from Anna), as well as several other carvings. Before she can steer Elsa and her many boxes to the baker’s, they run into Mattias and Halima next door. And of course, they can’t simply move along when Elsa has yet to catch up with Mattias.

When Kristoff leads the team through the crowd to the wood carver, he points toward Mattias’s house. Honeymaren spots him at once and pulls up, sucking in her breath.

“It’s okay,” Olaf tells her, noticing how tense she feels. “It’s Christmas!”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Honeymaren asks. Sven gently nudges her forward, lowing to her. The corner of her lips curls slightly, and she offers Sven’s nose some gentle pets.

“It means peace among friends!” Olaf insists. “And now that the forest is free, you can be friends with Mattias if you want!”

“That’s true, I suppose,” Honeymaren mumbles. Still, she keeps her hand on Sven’s shoulder as they plod forward. Kristoff and Mattias speak congenially ahead, and when they catch up, Mattias looks delighted to see Honeymaren. (Much to her surprise.)

“Good to see you! Welcome to Arendelle!” he says to Honeymaren. He sticks his hand out, smiling brightly at her.

Dubious, she glances up at Kristoff, then at the woman standing at Mattias’s side. She nods and smiles gently, so Honeymaren accepts Mattias’s hand. He shakes it despite her obvious stiffness.

“You must be… Honeymaren?” the woman asks.

“Erm, yes.”

“It’s an honor to meet you,” she says, offering her hand next. “I’m Halima. Thanks for not killing this guy,” she adds, intertwining her arm with Mattias, who laughs at her joke.

“Thanks for the directions, General,” Kristoff says.

“If you weren’t already _delayed_ ,” Mattias says, winking at Kristoff after glancing at Honeymaren. “… I’d ask you in for coffee, too. Or I’d have kept the queens here longer so you could catch up.”

“We’ll find them, don’t worry!” Kristoff says, already looking for a way through the crowd.

“Come on back anytime!” Halima calls after the group, Kristoff taking the lead once again. After a few more stops—including the sweet shop, where at least the shopkeeper offers them each a cup of hot chocolate to warm up with—Honeymaren gathers that they’re headed back toward the castle. “Nearly there!” Kristoff assures her, pushing through the crowd that’s circled around the sisters (presumably).

“Hooray!” Olaf cheers, following behind Honeymaren. “Nothing like pungent reindeer man smell to part a sea of people!” A laugh escapes Honeymaren, both at Olaf’s comment and the strange situation she’s found herself in.

Anna sighs, leaning heavily against Oaken’s large cart. “Whoa man! This did not go according to plan!” Elsa relieves her own arms of the many gifts from way too many people, dropping them on a large bench of ice she makes. Smirking, Anna sits on the bench by the pile, careful to protect the giant loaf of bread braided into Elsa’s likeness.

Oaken hums thoughtfully, delicately handing Elsa two small bags—one of essential oils, one of perfume—and asks, “Perhaps you need to relax, ja?”

She shrugs, then hears a most beloved laugh, one sure to mean Honeymaren’s nose has crinkled in that adorable way it does. “Honeymaren?”

“Hey! We found you!”

“Kristoff!” the sisters shout at the sound of his voice.

“And Olaf and Sven!” Anna says, smiling at the boys’ arrival.

“Honeymaren!” Elsa cheers, oblivious to the excited whispers in the crowd around them. While Anna jogs to Kristoff’s side and he hugs her tight, Honeymaren continues her approach toward Elsa, but she appears conflicted. So Elsa calls, “Come, please.”

She does, sheepishly grinning and rubbing the back of her neck. “Good to see you?”

“I’m told we were supposed to enjoy the whole ‘tour’ together,” Elsa says. “I _wanted_ to spend today with you! I’m sorry. After this morning—”

“You did?” Honeymaren asks. She clasps her hands around the mug of hot cocoa—something Elsa expressly instructed the sweetshop owner to give out. Bundled up in her thick fur cloak and mittens, Elsa can scarcely imagine a more heart-warming sight than Honeymaren in this moment, surprised and smiling a little.

“Of course I did!” she says. “I don’t know what this new gimmick with the mistletoe is about, now that I’m not queen—”

“Huh?”

“With all the kissing,” Elsa says.

“I don’t follow.”

“Yoohoo!” They both turn toward Oaken, and Honeymaren stands up straighter at the sight of his enormity. He motions to the door attached to his cart with steam rising from it. “Your majesty, your majesty’s friend—perhaps you would like to visit the sauna away from the sauna, ja?”

Elsa’s eyes dart from Honeymaren to Oaken. Her mouth dries and she finds herself nodding.

Until Honeymaren gives him a confused look and says, “That’s kind of you, um, no thank you. For now?”

And immediately she starts to shake her head, before Honeymaren catches her nodding.

“Hey look!”

Both woman turn their eyes downward. Olaf stands at Honeymaren’s other side, smiling brightly and pointing up. They follow his gaze up—Oaken’s cart has mistletoe attached to the top of it.

“What… Why would you hang poisonous berries up?” Honeymaren mutters to herself.

 _It’s time!_ Elsa thinks, watching Honeymaren.

“Honeymaren, if I may?” asks Olaf, tugging on Honeymaren’s long tunic.

“What’s up?” she asks, kneeling down beside him.

_WAIT NO!_

Before anyone can stop it, Olaf leans forward to kiss Honeymaren’s cheek, “Muah!”

… And thereby poke her in the eye with his carrot nose. “Ow!”

“Ohmygoodness!” the snowman squeals, aghast. “I’m sorry!”

“Honeymaren!” Elsa gasps, kneeling down beside her.

“It’s fine, I’m fine!” Honeymaren winces, holding her face.

“Oh oh!” Oaken hisses above them. “That looked very bad, ja!”

“Let me see it,” Elsa insists, laying her hand on Honeymaren’s shoulder.

Peering out her good eye, Honeymaren attempts to wave Elsa off with her hot cocoa-laden hand. “Really, I’m okay. Just surprised.”

“Are you sure?” Olaf asks, so sadly that Elsa can’t help but pat his head.

Honeymaren reaches out, fumbling, until she bumps into Olaf. “Yes, we’re sure,” she assures him.

“Hey, Elsa, everybo—wait, what am I looking at?”

“It’s all my fault!” Olaf cries, runs to Anna for a hug.

“Olaf, it’s okay!” Elsa insists.

“Whoa, hold the waterworks, buddy! What’s this all about?” Anna coos to him.

“It’s really not a big deal,” Honeymaren assures her, nervous about how this might look to all these strangers around them.

Through his snowman tears, Olaf tells Anna, “I saw that Oaken’s cart had mistletoe, so I went to kiss Honeymaren because she’s been so sad all day, but I poked her in the eye with my nose!” He cries against her shoulder, and Anna hugs him while giving Elsa a look of horror.

“There, there, buddy!” the queen assures him.

Meanwhile, Elsa lifts her hands to her mouth, uncertain about how she feels. Besides very red, despite the chilly wind having no effect on her. She keeps her eyes fixed on Anna so as to avoid the onlookers.

“I’m not sad!” Honeymaren protests.

“You are kinda crying,” Anna mumbles in her direction.

Immediately brushing at her cheek, Honeymaren mumbles, “Well yeah, my eye hurts.”

“Just let me see?” Elsa asks her again.

“No, Elsa, I’m fine,” Honeymaren persists, feeling unjustly huffy with Elsa at this point. She’s mortified enough as it is. “And—no wait, why do poisonous berries mean kissing?” she asks. “I don’t follow the logic here.”

“Hey so, what’s the hold up on an ice rink?” They all look up as Kristoff approaches them. Once he sees their faces, he balks. “Whoa, okay. I thought… uh, anyway!” He turns on his heel to depart.

“Crud!” Anna hisses, watching him leave.

“What about an ice rink?” Elsa asks.

“All of Arendelle wants to ice skate with you, while you’re in town,” Anna explains. Letting Olaf go as he settles down, she says, “It’s why I came back over here.”

Terse, Elsa says, “I’m a little busy—”

“Let’s do it then,” Honeymaren says, standing up. “Let’s set up a rink. Sounds better than everybody ogl—I mean, watching us, right?” At last she drops her hand.

Gasping in horror, Olaf shrieks, “I’ve ruined her eye!”

Simultaneously, Elsa and Anna quickly stand, peering at the now very self-conscious Honeymaren. “I-I feel fine!”

“It’s just a burst capillary,” Elsa says, nodding. She explains, “It’ll heal, no permanent damage.”

“Wait what?” Honeymaren asks, drawing her brow downward. “What’s wrong with it?”

“One half of your eye is blood red,” Anna shrugs. “But if Elsa says it’s fine, I’m not worried!” Grinning, she steers Olaf away to console him.

Honeymaren turns to Elsa with confusion. “Do you… How do you know that? Does it look bad or…?”

She sighs, “I owe you quite a few explanations.” Crossing her arms over her chest, Honeymaren feels her chest tighten at the way Elsa confines herself, how crestfallen she looks. “And I will, just… Just hold on. I have to wrap this up,” Elsa finishes.

Without another word, she turns toward the crowd and marches through it. Her hand rests upon a statue in the middle of the square, and Honeymaren realizes it’s a bronze casting of her and Anna’s parents, as children. Spotting the icy bench laden with Elsa’s many birthday gifts. Shrugging to herself, Honeymaren takes a seat.

A moment later, Sven arrives at Honeymaren’s side. “Hey, buddy,” she says, petting his nose. He offers a soft bellow, and she smiles. “At least I know how to make a reindeer happy,” she tells him, pets his cheeks and forehead, grinning at his eagerness, leaning into her pets.

“Tell me about it.”

“Hey, Kristoff,” Honeymaren says, not looking up.

“You wanna ice skate?” he asks awkwardly. She glances his way, follows the direction of his thumb, pointing over her shoulder. A sheer sheet of ice no covers the square, and families happily slide across the frictionless surface. Elsa and Anna are probably somewhere among the crowd, there’s just too many people to spot them.

“I’m okay for now,” Honeymaren tells him, giving him a quiet smile. “Somebody’s got to give Sven pets, right?”

Kristoff softly chuckles. “If you insist!” he says as Sven.

Several minutes pass. Honeymaren keeps petting Sven absentmindedly while she watches people. She lets her mind be, simply enjoying the sight of skillful skaters, forgetting her troubles in the present moment.

Then, suddenly, something appears in her lap, startling her. Flowers: snow drops, violas, winter heath, and holly, all wrapped in navy paper and tied together with a silver bow. After the initial surprise, Honeymaren realizes a pale hand with delicate fingers holds the bouquet. Slowly, she takes hold of the flowers and looks up.

Elsa smiles down at her, biting her lip. She looks anxious, yet relieved.

“These are for me?” Honeymaren asks incredulously, feeling her smile grow.

“Mhmm,” Elsa hums. “Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful!” Honeymaren praises. Leaning down, she breathes the winter flowers in. “But aren’t you supposed to be receiving gifts today?”

Scoffing, Elsa mutters, “I prefer giving gifts anyway.” Honeymaren nods knowingly—she does seem like that type. Then she asks Honeymaren, “Would you like to skate?”

Stomping down a gasp, Honeymaren nonetheless looks up to Elsa with shock.

“With me?”

“I… I’d love to,” she says softly. Honeymaren stands, watching Elsa carefully, and Sven nudges her forward with his nose. She swallows her nerves, lets Elsa lead her out onto the ice.

\---

“It’s getting late,” Anna sighs. Instead of adjourning, she snuggles closer to Kristoff behind her on the couch, pulls her blanket closer around herself. On the other side of the couch, Elsa and Olaf chuckle. As do Honeymaren and Sven, the former curled up on a chair with a blanket while the latter lays on the floor nearby. “It’s cozy here!”

“It is,” Honeymaren affirms.

“But we have to get ready for actual Christmas,” Kristoff reminds her, his arm round her shoulder pulling her closer.

“After today, that sounds just fine. Simple.”

“Today was something else,” Elsa agrees.

“Did not go according to plan at all!” Anna huffs. “So more snuggles?” she asks, looking up fondly at Kristoff.

“How about snuggles in bed?”

“There are still cookies on the plate!” she argues, pointing to the plate of cookies and crumbs on a nearby table, next to a glogg station for them to enjoy.

“So what?”

“We can’t get up until we finish them off!”

“I have another cookie in me!” Olaf announces, hopping off the couch.

“No, Olaf, the point is to stay up late!” Anna protests, getting Elsa and Honeymaren laughing again.

“I could go for a little more glogg,” Honeymaren says.

“Me too?” Elsa says, asking with her eyes for Honeymaren to bring her another serving.

Honeymaren walks with Olaf over to the table, helps him get the cookie of his choice since his eyes are level with the plate. But she notes that the snowman blinks slowly, sleepily, wobbling a little more than usual on his way back to the couch. “But the shortest among us should head to bed soon.”

“Why are we ganging up on me?” Anna complains.

“No, not you,” Kristoff chuckles, points out Olaf’s sleepy attempts to get back on the couch.

Noticing their point, Anna sighs, “Ah, okay, right, I see. Olaf, it’s time for you to go to bed.”

“I’m not…” he starts, then yawns. “Not that tired.”

“Nope, bedtime,” Kristoff asserts. He stands, helps Anna and Olaf up as well. To Elsa and Honeymaren he says, “Enjoy the glogg. Happy birthday, Elsa.”

They exchange goodnights, Sven nuzzles Honeymaren’s shoulder before departing, and Elsa smiles as she sips her glogg. Finally, alone together. She glances Honeymaren’s way. “Sit with me?”

Smiling but silent, Honeymaren moves to the couch, mug in hand. And something else in hand as well, Elsa realizes. “Are you all gifted out?” Honeymaren asks.

“Yes, but I can make an exception,” Elsa replies.

Chuckling softly, Honeymaren hands over the something else in her hands. The package is roughly the size of her mug of glogg, which Elsa sets aside. It’s wrapped in birch bark paper. Glancing up at Honeymaren’s nervous smile, Elsa grins and opens the gift carefully.

It’s a kuksa, a mug carved from a tree’s burl and decorated with an expert hand: around the rim the horizontal diamonds carved with the marks of the four spirits of the forest. A leather string attaches a toggle to it, carved with the unique shape of the fifth spirit.

“Wow!”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes! Absolutely! This is amazing, did you make this yourself?”

Although initially, she’s a little taken aback by Elsa’s enthusiasm, Honeymaren grins shyly, nods. “I did,” she says quietly, bringing her mug of glogg to her face without sipping. The warmth is comforting, the spices addicting for her palate, and for the first time she worries a little about what her hands might do in Elsa’s presence if she doesn’t hold tight to something—namely, the mug.

The first time she realized she _could_ feel like her hands might want to wander was earlier today, when Elsa held them while they skated across the ice.

“And I might actually use this,” Elsa mumbles to herself, although Honeymaren’s near enough to hear.

“I was going to ask how you planned to transport all of these gifts.”

“I’m not,” Elsa says, getting Honeymaren to chuckle. “Though this and the chocolates perhaps. Perhaps the dress Anna gave me, it looked sturdy enough for home.”

_Home…_ Honeymaren asks, “You don’t miss it here?”

“Sometimes,” Elsa says, but she furrows her brow, looks frustrated. “But today? I do _not_ miss the pressure, the undue attention, the incessant doting, the intrusion…” She turns away, resting her head in her hand. “I miss my family here, of course, but I miss Northuldra right now.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound like you doubt me?”

“I don’t!” Honeymaren insists, hands up and leaning back with a grin.

To her surprise, Elsa reaches out, grabs her wrist and pulls her forward again. “You do!” she accuses Honeymaren, narrowing her gaze. Ruby lips smirk, and Honeymaren shivers. “Don’t doubt in me. I know what I want.”

Glancing at Elsa’s grip on her sleeve, Honeymaren breathes, “A-and what’s that?”

She does that thing, the thing where Elsa looks at Honeymaren’s whole face as though the answer should be obvious to her. For the first time, Honeymaren thinks she knows what the answer actually is. And _that_ possible answer makes the feelings come back. After last night—and after seeing how sad Elsa was when she and Honeymaren had been separated—Honeymaren welcomes the feelings stirring within her.

Not that she knows what to do with them. The silence between Elsa and herself drags out, until Elsa at least clears her throat and gulps her glogg. “Ready for bed?”

“Um! Yes!”

Smiling, sighing, Elsa gets off the couch and folds the blankets. Certainly, there are servants to do such things, but she folds them anyway. She’s been doing her own make-up, folding her own blankets, and thensome for over a dozen years in this house (castle) and she won’t be stopping anytime soon. But she catches a glance of Honeymaren’s face—staring up at her.

Elsa doesn’t want to draw attention to it given Honeymaren probably doesn’t realize what she’s doing, but her face _begs_. If she _knew_ the way she was looking at Elsa right now, if she knew how much Elsa _wants_ Honeymaren to look at her like that, would she run away shy? So she does her best to hide the hunger in her heart and smiles as kindly as she can down at Honeymaren, offering her hand. Honeymaren licks her lips, takes her hand, and follows.

Walking hand in hand is no small step, Elsa reminds herself. Especially after the series of unfortunate events that was today—all high among the reasons spending yesterday with family sequestered indoors had been a brilliant plan, she reminds herself as well.

“Oh, wait!” Honeymaren dashes back into the library as they reach the threshold to the hall. Watching her go, Elsa grins to herself when she witnesses Honeymaren grabbing her bouquet of flowers from a table, hooking the kuksa’s toggle around them, and smelling the bunch as she walks back to Elsa’s side.

“I’m relieved you like them,” Elsa says, leading them out of the room once again.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Honeymaren asks. Her knuckles brush against Elsa’s as they walk, and the queen of snow and ice shamelessly reaches for her hand again. The fact that something so small and innocent causes a (barely) audible hitch in Honeymaren’s breath nonetheless pleases Elsa immensely.

“I suppose I wasn’t certain that you enjoyed pretty things like flowers,” Elsa says. She side-eyes Honeymaren, grinning already, as she reaches into the bouquet. She carefully removes a holly spring, then tucks it behind Honeymaren’s ear. Surprised delight spreads on her face, earning a pleased hum from Elsa.

For once, she doesn’t fold though. Honeymaren narrows her eyes, and at long last that bewitching smirk makes a lasting appearance. “I’ll have you know I made a sled recently that was very pretty.”

“Perhaps we are not disposed to think of construction projects, like a sled, as pretty. Here in Arendelle,” Elsa replies, hoping to the heavens that this keeps up—Honeymaren just being herself. Surely if she survived today’s shitshow in town, she can manage a little flirtation. Right?

“Kristoff’s sled is beautiful, though,” Honeymaren counters.

“True, I saw to that fact myself.”

“I like pretty things, like flowers,” Honeymaren says, and for a moment it seems as though she’ll say more, but she pauses both in speech and gait. “What’s this?” she asks, motioning toward an open door.

Turning to look, Elsa asks, “Would you like to see?” Honeymaren nods, and Elsa leads her into the art gallery. The lights are up, so chances are someone was cleaning in here. Or, “Anna and Kristoff might have been this way, she loves the gallery.”

“The gallery?” Honeymaren asks, looking around at the paintings and occasional sculpture.

“Mhmm, Anna tells me she spent many hours here growing up,” Elsa explains, watching Honeymaren wander. “Apparently she enjoyed giving the portraits personalities and having conversations with them when she was bored.”

“They’re beautiful,” Honeymaren softly responds, her back toward Elsa as she walks through the room.

Softer still, Elsa echoes her, “Beautiful.”

Again, Honeymaren pauses. She stands like a statue, more still than Elsa could ever imagine a human being could stand. Seemingly in response to Elsa’s quiet utterance.

Then, Honeymaren turns back. And something’s different. Radically different. Makes Elsa’s heart race different. Her lips slightly parted, her eyes big and brown and fixed on Elsa. As Honeymaren walks toward her, Elsa holds her breath. She stops right in front of Elsa, close enough to hold hands once again. Close enough that Elsa can imagine Honeymaren thanking her for showing her the room and they adjourn to bed.

Instead, Honeymaren looks down at her bouquet with unique concentration. When she looks back up into Elsa’s eyes, she finally feels herself breathe—and it comes out cold, water vapor rising from Elsa’s mouth. Honeymaren blinks rapidly a second, then hooks her free hand with Elsa’s hand. She lifts the hand before her, considering Elsa’s fingers, before murmuring, “I like pretty things.”

Honeymaren’s lips glance across the skin of Elsa’s knuckles. And she’s leaning in, closer to Honeymaren, lifts both of her hands to Honeymaren’s cheeks. Their eyes meet as their breaths do. Elsa watches her, hoping against hope that she won’t run. At long last, Honeymaren’s eyes flutter closed, and Elsa smiles as she crosses the last distance between them.

Sweet, soft lips press against her own. Strong arms wrap around her waist, the bouquet held askance in Honeymaren’s grip perfuming the air around them. Best of all, Honeymaren smiles into the kiss, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postlude:  
> Ryder, midway through elaborate plans to set Honeymaren up with Elsa, pauses in the middle of night. He sits back, puts his hand on his heart, and says to himself, "You fucking did it, sis. Fina-fucking-ly!"  
> \---  
> Happy 2021 y'all! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> I dunno who reads this part after the final chapter, but if you read my other fics like the pirates one, Kaffeost, or Flinch, I do have follow ups in mind. But I'm taking a little writing break for a little while so I can read and work on some other projects. This shit's kept me busy and happy for a good chunk of quarantine, and I can't thank you enough for taking the time to read this stuff.  
> \---  
> I almost forgot to mention: Give your butch/"masculine of center"/stud/etc women/womyn/theythems FLOWERS! Give them pretty things!!


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